


where Gon ended and Killua began

by benitato



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: A lot of awkward firsts actually, Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff, Awkward but cute first dates, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, aged up (by that i mean they’re 16 or so), but what do you expect it’s killugon, oneshots, there is pining and it is so not lowkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benitato/pseuds/benitato
Summary: “Stop looking at me like that.”“Like what?” Gon laughed softly.“Like— like I’m going to disappear any second,” Killua whispered.“I keep thinking you might.” Gon confessed, gaze lowered.“Idiot,” he cupped the side of Gon’s face. “As if I could ever leave you.”(a collection of self-indulgent Killugon oneshots)





	1. miracle aligner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua eats alcoholic sweets. Two drunk, underaged kids are way funnier than one would’ve thought. Especially when said kids are in love.
> 
> setting: canon universe, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in the title: [Miracle Aligner by The Last Shadow Puppets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB-7wDo2vM4)

  
In retrospect, Killua shouldn’t have eaten the liquor-infused chocolates, even though Gon said they were highly alcoholic.

  
And he _really_ shouldn’t have forced Gon to eat with him too.

  
“This is _terrible_ ,” Killua groaned from the floor on his back, an arm thrown across his flushed face.

  
“I— _hnghh_ — told you... so...” Gon hiccuped, face flattened on the table, the remaining chocolates lying scattered in front of him. He tried to blow away a piece of wrapper stuck to his nose, but to no avail.

  
“Shudduuuup, your drunk voice is too loud— Mito-san will kill us. Or just you.” Killua added hopefully.

  
“Is this... your first time... being— _hic!_ — drunk?” Gon asked, his voice sleepy and drifting.

  
“No.” Killua immediately said. The lie hung in the air between them, and he knew Gon knew. Killua sighed, “Is it _that_ obvious?”

  
Gon, gracious even when plastered, just gave a breathy laugh. “Same here,” he added, which made Killua smile. As if Mito-san would ever allow him to.

  
“I don’t think,” Gon gasped after a few minutes, “I’m going to drink this stuff... even when we’re finally allowed to. In two years.”

  
“Imagine how much worse drinking would be,” Killua mumbled, trying to sit up but instead getting vertigo for his efforts. He flopped back down on the floor, resigned to his fate.

  
“WhadidyouwantKillua—?” Gon asked, words barely comprehensible and strung together, turning to look at him.

  
“Whudurr... I meant, _water_.” Killua slurred.

  
“I’mmmm gettin’ some... wait...” Gon tried to stand up before Killua could protest, but instead tripped, and now lay sprawled beside Killua. Killua would’ve laughed, were he not as drunk as Gon was.

  
“ _Idiot_ ,” Killua trying to sound exasperated but failing, “Now we both can’t move.”

  
“S’alrighhht.” Gon mumbled, shifting to his side to face Killua. Some of the chocolate was still smeared on the corner of his mouth, a lazy grin forming there.

  
Their faces only centimeters apart, Killua focused on the gold flecks in Gon’s half-lidded tawny eyes. _To stay awake_ , he told himself. Gon’s breath fanned his face, sending Killua’s bangs fluttering slightly.

  
Gon’s face contorted into a grimace. “What’s wrong?” Killua frowned. “Mmmmhead... spinning...” Gon mumbled.

  
“Close your eyes,” Killua advised him, “It helps.” Gon sighed and followed obediently. His breathing turned rhythmic in merely a few seconds. Killua envied him.

  
Outside, the sound of waves crashing blended perfectly with the wind rustling leaves to create a song that nearly lulled Killua to sleep. He _would_ sleep, but—

  
Gon’s hand lay just a few inches beside his own. He studied Gon’s face, smiling faintly even in slumber. Never being one to openly show affection, even after establishing their relationship, Killua sometimes felt he had to take these little opportunities to make up for all the ghosted touches and fingertip brushes he could only seem to bring himself to do to Gon without being under the supervision of the public eye.

  
Guilt wrenching his heart, Killua thought of how Gon had just accepted that Killua wasn’t ready for, or even _capable of_ , showing any intimacy.

 

  
_It’s alright, Killua_ , he’d said, _I can be affectionate enough for the both of us._ This earned him a poke in the shoulder from Killua, who was still new to all... _this_.

  
_And I know you really like me too,_ Gon said softly. _One day, I’ll get you to show it._

  
_To everyone?_ Killua asked, feigning horror.

  
_No_ , Gon smiled. _To me._

 

  
And it hurt Killua more than it should have.

 

  
_Just promise me you won’t leave till then_ , Gon added.

  
_As if I could_ , Killua thought.

 

  
He shifted a bit, and found his hand closer to Gon’s. _Purely accidental,_ he told himself.

  
He shifted again, and their pinkies touched. _Accidental_ , he kept telling himself, as if that could make it true. He nudged Gon’s finger, gauging his reaction and testing whether he really was asleep.

  
He shifted again. His fingers now lay on top of Gon’s, their foreheads pressed together, plastering silver hair with black. Their noses were touching.

  
Killua closed his eyes and hummed softly in contentment.

  
Fingers suddenly grasped Killua’s in an iron hold. For someone who was seemingly asleep, Gon’s grip was suspiciously _tight_.

  
Too tired to move away or make up an excuse, as he usually did when confronted  
with any affectionate advances, Killua just breathed out a “ _Hi_.”

  
“Hi. Nice dreaming you.” Gon mumbled.

  
Killua let out a laugh and squeezed Gon’s hand. “What makes you think you’re dreaming?” He asked curiously, affectionately.

  
“Must be,” Gon insisted sleepily, “Killua couldn’t do this.”

  
“Yeah?” Killua curled back a bit, slightly hurt from Gon’s blunt statement.

  
“Yeah.” Gon sighed.

  
“Well, could he do this—?” Killua asked, and impulsively pressed his lips to Gon’s.

 

  
He tasted of chocolate and something faintly bitter— maybe the alcohol —Killua noted. Gon gasped, and Killua inhaled that too.

 

  
He decided he liked kissing Gon.

 

  
The fact that it was their first kiss and both had no experience whatsoever didn’t seem to bother the two adolescents. The wooden floor wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to do it either, and Killua’s neck was straining to stay upright. Gon’s hand found its way to the back of Killua’s head, threading his fingers in the silver hairs that curled near the base of his neck. Killua shivered at the action. Merely a press of lips against lips, but it was enough to send Killua’s head spinning. He could feel Gon’s smile when they broke apart, breathless, but Killua doubted it was as big as the one plastered on his own face.

 

  
“Hi,” Gon whispered.

 

  
_I love you_ , Killua thought.

  
“Hi,” he whispered back instead.

 

  
“I like not dreaming,” Gon declared resolutely, “But if it’s Killua, I wouldn’t mind.”

  
“You’re embarrassing,” Killua muttered.

 

  
“You say that, but it doesn’t sound like an insult.” Gon laughed, and moved to cup a warm hand against Killua’s jaw— it felt far better than it had any right to.

 

“Maybe it’s because you’re an idiot,” Killua murmured fondly, leaning into Gon’s touch. He wondered why he didn’t do this sooner.

  
“You love me anyway.” Gon half-smiled.

  
“I do.” Killua replied without thinking. Surprisingly, he didn’t regret the words as soon as they flew out of his mouth.

 

  
What was more surprising was Gon’s expression; his mouth hung slightly open, and his tawny eyes were strangely wet. “Oh, um— I— what— you—?” Gon struggled to form coherent sentences.

 

  
“I love you,” Killua said even more softly, as if making his voice louder would take away the moment from him. From them. It elicited another quiet gasp/sob from Gon, which stuck in his throat. “You didn’t think I—?” Unable to finish his sentence, Killua searched for the answer in the freckles splattered across Gon’s nose.

  
“I— well— you’ve never said it. Before.” Gon said quietly. It made Killua’s throat tighten; tears stung the back of his eyes.

  
“And I’m not proud that it took me two years and a box of alcoholic sweets to say it, either.” Killua grimaced.

Gon laughed and wiped at his own eyes with the back of one hand. “I guess we’re both idiots, huh?” He said after a comfortable silence. 

”Nuh-uh; you get that title all to yourself.” Killua flicked the pointed nose, wanting to press a kiss there. _And there. And there._

 

“Ow.” Gon wrinkled his nose and poked Killua’s side in retaliation. 

“Alright, you asked for it,” Killua grabbed the nearest pillow from Gon’s bed and began to mercilessly attack. And he might’ve stolen _one_ kiss while they pummeled each other, goose feathers falling all around them. 

 

Or two. Maybe three. 

 

 

And that was how Mito found them the next morning, sprawled on the floor, feathers in their hair and one in Gon’s nostril. Her expensive liquor-infused chocolates were reduced to empty wrappers. She moved forward to give Gon a scolding of a lifetime, but stopped when she saw his hand clasped in Killua’s.

She stood there, thought better of it, and drew a blanket over them on the floor. “I’m getting soft, is what it is.” Mito grumbled. 

She gazed at the two bodies, legs so entangled in one another that one almost couldn’t tell where Gon ended and Killua began. 

 

But Mito knew. She smiled to herself, plucking goose feathers from the floor as she made her way out the sunlit room. 

 

Gon ended _where_ Killua began. 


	2. i would do anything for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon takes Killua out on an AU date at the carnival.
> 
> Also alternatively titled: “this was supposed to be drabble but I got carried away so now here you have tooth-rotting Killugon fluff”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve started naming my chapters after songs that inspired me while writing them respectively. They’re also sort of lowkey music recommendations from me to you, so, uh, enjoy! 
> 
> Or not. Cheers. 
> 
> Song in the title: [I Would Do Anything For You by Foster The People](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOIfNyBmZ0g)

  
Gon understood that Killua had missed out on a lot of essential recreational activities that comprised a childhood, given the latter’s not-so-child-friendly background.

But he firmly had to put his foot down when he found that Killua had never seen, much less been to, _a carnival_.

And that was why they ended up one fine afternoon on the pier in front of the entrance of the famous Whale Island Carnival.

 

~~~

It was almost 4 o’ clock, and as they finally passed through the gates, the mixed aromas of popcorn, fried pastries, and something deliciously _fruity_ invaded their noses.

Killua looked over at Gon. For someone who was supposed to be the one doing the showing, Gon seemed even more excited than Killua was; fingers tugging at Killua’s sleeve and pointing at anything that caught his fancy— which meant _everything_.

  
_Adorable_ , Killua thought.

  
One thing bothered Killua, though— he didn’t expect to see _this_ much people out and about. From wailing toddlers to noisy groups of adolescents, all of it nearly suffocated him. But he couldn’t let Gon notice.

~~~

Gon noticed.

  
He saw Killua’s lowered head and mentally face-palmed himself; he’d thought of the rides and the arcades and the food, but he didn’t account for the number of people that would be around. Of course Killua wouldn’t be used to this kind of environment— he grew up _isolated_ in a _mansion_.

“ _Ne_ , are you still okay? Do you want to keep going?” He lifted Killua’s chin with the tip of one finger. Killua instinctively shied away from the touch, cheeks dusted pink. Gon pretended he didn’t notice, albeit a little hurt.

“Yeah,” Killua said softly, smiling a little. “It’s just— a lot to take in.”

“We can go somewhere else, if you’re uncomfortable,” Gon said firmly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I don’t care where we go, as long as you’re with me.”

Killua suspected Gon knew he liked hearing those kinds of words. “Embarrassing, as usual,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I want to see how you have fun,” Killua said resolutely.

“If you’re not sure about it—“ Gon began worriedly, but Killua waved a hand, dismissing paranoid thoughts.

“Where should we go first?” Killua asked, looking around warily.

“I know the best place to start!” Gon grabbed Killua’s hand without warning, ignoring the latter’s half-hearted protests, and promptly ran off.

 

~~~

“That probably wasn’t the best place to start,” Killua noted out loud as he rubbed Gon’s back absentmindedly, sitting on the bench they’d managed to luckily find in a quiet area.

“Just go ahead and say “I told you so.”” Gon groaned, head between his knees, trying not to retch again.

“Alright— I told you the roller coaster wasn’t a good idea.” Killua smirked, a hint of smugness evident in his tone. Gon had thrown up the minute they got off the ride, while Killua opted to go for a second time. “Makes you wonder whose first time it is here.” Killua teased.

“M’sorry.....” Gon mumbled.

“For what?” Killua laughed softly, still rubbing circles on Gon’s back.

“You should be having fun, not doing... _this_ ,” Gon groaned.

“I _have_ been having fun, dumbass.” Killua said affectionately, “ever since the minute we got here.”

Gon stayed quiet thoughtfully for a minute, then brightened up, “I know where we can go next!” He looked at his map — handed out at the entrances — and scrunched his nose. “But I can’t find it here, this place is so big...”

Killua suddenly stood up, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. He pulled out his own copy of the map and studied it. “Where was it you wanted to go again?” He asked, not looking up.

“The games section, but—“

“Race you there!” Killua yelled, taking off faster than Gon could protest. Killua turned midway, and waved a hand, as if goading him on. The unexpected action made Gon blink twice in surprise before getting up to his own feet. The delicious thrill of adrenaline sparked in his veins.

“Oh, it’s _so_ on.” He laughed, and went running after the white-haired boy.

 

~~~

Two hours and more than a hundred tokens later, they sat on the pier, feet swinging and thighs touching. As the dusk settled, lights strung all over the carnival began to replace the dying rays of the sun.

“You’re too good at this, Killua.” Gon complained, fishing around in the paper bag for more donuts but coming up with only powder-covered fingers. He peered sadly into the bag.

“Yeah, well, those were practically the only kinds of ‘recreational’ activities I was allowed to do.” Killua sighed contentedly as he finished his second chocolate sundae.

“That was _so_ cool— you literally managed to hit all of the figurines!” Gon mimicked — rather terribly — Killua shooting down the plastic toys with a pellet gun. “You were so good at it, we got banned!“ Gon recounted excitedly.

“Only _you_ would think of it as something cool.” Killua laughed in disbelief.

“But it was!” Gon protested. This earned him a flick in the nose from Killua. “I guess that _was_ the best part, wasn’t it?” Killua smiled after a while.

“Oh, that’s not the best part yet— _that_ one is,” Gon grinned and turned to point out something behind them. He stood up, pulling Killua with him. Killua stared at Gon, then at the illuminated monstrosity that seemed to defy the laws of physics, and back to Gon.

 

~~~

“I can see my house from here!” Gon pointed out excitedly. As the Ferris wheel rotated slowly but steadily, the quaint house near the cliffs grew visible, a speck of light in the distance; but Killua wasn’t looking at it. He was staring slightly open mouthed at the view below— a chaotic masterpiece of colors and smoke and movement.

“This is amazing,” Killua said softly, in a tone full of wonder and childlike delight. Gon gazed at Killua— fractions of light reflecting from blue eyes and dyeing the tips of white hair; Gon thought personally he’d found something more amazing than the view below.

 

“And the food here would have Milluki begging on his knees,” Killua smirked, as if the thought of his heavyset elder brother pigging out seemed to amuse him.

 

“Do you miss them, Killua? Your family?” Gon asked suddenly, tawny eyes all honest curiosity.

 

Killua stayed quiet so long that Gon had almost forgotten his question. But Killua just didn’t know which was worse— the fact that he was able to give an answer not one second after the question, or that he knew he missed his family and all their screwed up intentions.

 

“If I answered ‘yes’”, Killua drawled, “wouldn’t that make me like them?” He clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into his palm.

 

Gon studied Killua for a minute, and abruptly reached out to touch him. “You’re supposed to be the smart one, Killua,” Gon said, gently taking pale hands in his own and unfolding the fingers from bruised skin.

“What does being smart have to do with any of this?” Killua retorted, Gon’s logic nonsensical as usual.

“It means you should already know that missing your screwed up family doesn’t make you screwed up as well. Loving doesn’t make you a terrible person,” Gon’s expression darkened, “But what your family did to _you_ was unforgivable.”

Killua shook his head, slightly reeling from Gon’s words, “It’s over, anyway. You know those sort of things can’t be undone.”

“I could kill them,” Gon said it as calmly as if he were talking about going next door to buy bread. It scared Killua a little, to be honest.

 

“Don’t— it’ll ruin our date, idiot,” Killua mock-chided him. He poked the side of Gon’s cheek with a finger.

 

Gon raised an eyebrow and pulled Killua close. “So this counts as a date, then?” He murmured, their faces centimeters apart.

 

“Maybe,” Killua smiled, pressing his forehead against Gon’s. Tawny eyes roamed Killua’s face wonderingly. He pushed Gon away, slightly flustered. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  
“Like what?” Gon laughed.

  
“Like— like I’m going to disappear any second,” Killua whispered.

  
“I keep thinking you might.” Gon confessed, gaze lowered. Killua’s chest tightened, but it was a good kind of pain— the kind he’d welcome anytime.

  
“ _Idiot_ ,” he cupped the side of Gon’s face. “As if I could ever leave you.”

  
Gon’s eyes stared back in disbelief— he leaned forward, and Killua tilted his head slightly. Killua’s heartbeat rose and fell in time with the Ferris wheel as their mouths met— intensely, almost desperately, at first, but gradually slowed down to sweet chasteness. Gon tasted of glazed sugar and smelt of the sun. Killua let his hands roam the broad expanse of Gon’s back and shoulders, secretly enjoying the little shivers they induced from the tan boy.

Something warm grazed the side of Killua’s face, and he broke away to gasp for air, forehead pressed against Gon’s. He closed his eyes and cupped the hand held against his face.

  
_I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this_

  
“In that case, I’ll have to do things like this more often,” Gon whispered. Killua hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.

“I’ll keep doing it,” Gon continued, “until one day you won’t have to be surprised anymore when I touch you or hold you, until you accept that I’m never going anywhere— not without you.”

 

“So _embarrassing_.” Killua said softly and locked his hands behind Gon’s neck.

 

“You like it,” Gon laughed.

 

“No, I like _you_ , so I tolerate it.” Killua corrected him. Gon laughed — more of a delighted gasp, really — and ghosted his lips once, twice, across Killua’s.

“Say that again,” Gon murmured, the press of his mouth against Killua’s neck a wordless plea.

 

_“Make me,”_ Killua breathed. Haughty blue eyes met tawny ones, burning with adoration and intensity and _something else_ that made Killua’s chest constrict.

  
Gon never backed down from a challenge.

  
Safe in this knowledge, Killua lost himself in tan arms and warm lips.

~~~

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they get stuck in the Ferris wheel because Gon got carried away but Killua secretly likes it. The end. Sorry for the half-assed ending.


	3. the end of all things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day that the rain tasted like melted ice cream was the day Killua got his first kiss.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: canon universe, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I apologize in advance :/ Wrote this at 1 am accompanied by my turtle and about 4 cups of coffee. 
> 
>  
> 
> Song in the title: [The End Of All Things by Panic! At The Disco](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YSWIfX_MNCY)

_The day that the rain tasted like melted ice cream was the day Killua got his first kiss._

 

  
~~~

Something was wrong.

  
Killua couldn’t pinpoint it, but something was _terribly_ wrong.

  
The familiar crackle of electricity coursed through his skin and into his bloodstreams, magnifying his already-sharp senses tenfold. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if in sync with Killua’s ability. Dampness hung in the air, creeping into his clothes and making silver hair curl and stick to the nape of his neck.

  
He tilted his head and listened for the sound of exchanged fists, heavy footsteps, or anything.

  
_Nothing_.

  
Panic gripping his mind, he strained his ears further, and finally caught the faintest noise carried on the wind— something or someone gasping for breath.

  
_Good. Gon’s most likely winded from fighting; those were some strong Nen users_

  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Killua felt himself lift off of the ground, adrenaline racing in his blood, towards where the sound had come from.

  
_Wait for me don’t do anything stupid_

 

Branches scratched and stung Killua’s face as he sped right through them, feet barely touching the ground, as if they were winged. The smell of burnt wood and leaves permeated the air whenever he brushed past the greenery.

As he neared the sound, Killua could see a pinprick of light— possibly a clearing in the middle of the forest.

  
The breathing sounds grew ragged.

  
Killua willed his feet to go faster— to _fly_.

 

~~~

_“You’re a certified idiot,” Killua hissed._

_“So I’ve been told.” Gon replied from behind, and Killua could hear the smile in his voice._

_Gon, don’t be stupid—_

_Killua wanted to yell frustratedly, but Gon’s lean figure was already facing his side of the dense foliage of the forest. The malicious intent of the enemy’s aura, accumulated through time and numbers, nearly suffocated Killua— but he was no stranger to incomprehensible hostility._

_  
And neither was the boy behind him._

_  
Standing back to back like this — skin pressed against skin, shoulder blades aligned perfectly, feet anchored and unmovable — Killua liked to think they could take on the world._

_  
And he still did._

~~~

  
  
Killua reached the open space and was greeted with a massacre.

  
Well, not exactly— Killua could tell the bodies strewn across the dirt were breathing, but too incapacitated to stand. Most of them, at least.

  
And in the midst of it all, sat leaning against a great, wizened tree, was Gon.

  
He had his right knee to his chest, an arm resting on top of it. The other leg lay bent around the first foot. Seeing him in that pose, Killua inevitably thought of his confrontation with Pitou. Only this time, Gon’s face wasn’t contorted with grief and hate and anger; it was light and easy and smiling, the way it was when they first met about 4 years ago.

  
“You overdid it,” Killua remarked dryly as he walked towards Gon, already missing the crackle of his electricity as he willed it to die down.

  
_Close enough to see the shadows cast by trembling leaves dancing on his thin, tan face_

  
“Hmm, maybe.” Gon replied, closing his eyes and propping his head back against the tree.

  
Killua took his time, though; trudging across the dirt slowly, somewhat afraid of his destination, not even knowing why. He was close enough to hear Gon’s rhythmic, jagged breathing. Killua wondered if Gon had ever been this tired.

  
_Close enough to see the tension wrought in strong tan arms_

  
“It’s starting to rain.” Killua pointed out needlessly; fat droplets were dropping mercilessly and without warning, as if drawn to the earth. The tree Gon was under offered little shelter from the force of the rain.

  
“Smart as ever, Killua.” Gon smiled, eyes still closed.

  
“Don’t need that smart-ass tone from you, Freecss.” Killua grumbled, drawing closer till he standing right beside the other boy.

  
_Close enough to see gold flecks in half-lidded tawny eyes_

  
“Let’s just go,” Killua sighed, “Leorio’s probably—“ Killua stopped and narrowed his eyes at Gon, trying to make him out amidst the incessant downpour. Killua sniffed the air— rusty. Metallic. _Familiar_.

  
_It almost smells like—_

  
“Why aren’t you getting up?” Killua asked quietly, knowing Gon’s animal-like hearing would pick up the softest whisper even though the constant drumming of the rain. They were both soaked to the bone now. Killua looked away, trying not to notice how Gon’s clothes clung to his body, outlining the lean, slightly muscular form.

  
Gon remained silent for almost a minute, then exhaled a shaky laugh. “I, um, kinda can’t,” he admitted. He lowered the leg he’d had against his chest, the one which hid his torso partially, and Killua reeled back at the sight. He knew he’d recognized the scent earlier.

  
_Blood_.

  
Killua was trained how to deal numerous fatal blows to a target, and he knew one when saw it.

  
The wound was deep— _bone deep_ , and it pierced Gon’s center from an angle that led upwards.

  
_Upwards, and from the center, which meant it probably hit his—_

  
“Stupid. So, so, so _stupid_.” Killua muttered, desperately trying to stop the flow of the red substance which now stained the front of Gon’s shirt and Killua’s pale hands. The idiot had defeated a bunch of more than competent _Nen_ users on his own, but at what cost?

  
His eyes darted all over Gon’s body frantically, wanting to just run and carry him to the nearest medical station, but afraid that any more jostling might induce further blood loss.

  
“Shit, Gon— that was _a Nen blade_.” It was all Killua could do not to yell at the injured boy, knowing that a first-aid kit would be much more helpful.

  
“That bad, huh?” Another breathy laugh escaped from Gon. Killua bit his tongue just to keep from spewing profanity.

  
_How can he be so calm—_

  
“Come on, I’ll carry you—“ Killua knelt in front of Gon, waiting for a pair of arms to slip around his neck. But they never came.

  
“Gon?” Killua whispered, glancing backwards.

  
Gon still sat leaning against the tree, arms hanging limply at his sides, the ghost of a smile lingering at the corners of his lips. His eyes were shut, as if asleep.

  
He wasn’t moving.

  
“ _Gon_ —“

  
Killua choked out. Gon was in his arms in an instant, and he held him as carefully as if he were bound to break at the slightest movement. He pressed the tips of shaking fingers against Gon’s jugular, afraid of what he might not find there. Killua almost cried out in relief when he felt the faintest drumming of a heartbeat. He shook the other boy gently, as if waking him up.

  
“Mmm?” Gon suddenly rasped, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

  
“Please— let’s just go back to Leorio. He’ll know how to fix this,” Killua’s chest constricted at the sight. Gon shook his head.

  
_Shook his head—_

  
“What do you mean? You don’t want to?” Killua asked harshly, incredulously, not meaning to.

  
_Why am I asking for permission anyway_

  
Killua tightened his grip on Gon’s body, preparing to carry him in his arms, and had only moved a few feet when he felt a weak but persistent tugging on his sleeve. He looked down at Gon, questioning, and saw the front of Gon’s shirt blooming red rapidly.

  
Killua dropped to his knees, holding Gon to his chest.

  
“Shit, shit, _shit_.” He couldn’t move Gon, and he couldn’t _not_ move him— Killua had never felt so helpless in his life. He took deep, shaky breaths, only realizing he was crying when he tasted salt and bitter rainwater in his mouth.

  
“Killua—“ Gon breathed, still tugging at his sleeve. “Killua, it’s okay.” He reached up to wipe the tears, indistinguishable from the rain, running down the side of Killua’s face.

  
“No, you idiot, it’s _not_ okay—.” Killua looked down at Gon through a hazy kaleidoscope of tears.

  
“It’s, I’ll be— I’ll—,” Gon frowned, already drifting away, and nearly slipped into unconsciousness.

  
“Gon!” Killua shook him a little harder, and buried his face in the crook between Gon’s shoulder and neck. Gon gasped, awake, and Killua wasn’t sure he could handle any more.

  
“Don’t do that again,” Killua pleaded against the hollow of Gon’s throat, not caring that his lips were brushing all the places they shouldn’t.

  
“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose,” Gon moved a hand feebly.

  
“Just tell me what to do,” Killua begged, lost and drunk on adrenaline.

  
“Stay.” Was Gon’s simple reply.

  
_You’ll be the death of me—_

  
“You also have to, then.” Retorted Killua, clenching the front of Gon’s shirt in a shaking, tight fist. Rivulets of rain drew patterns on tan skin and clung to lowered lashes. It might’ve been his imagination, but he thought he heard Gon’s breath hitch in his chest.

  
“Only if you stop being angry with me,” Gon bargained, “You look like you’d kill me before I could die.”

  
Killua didn’t know whether to laugh or cry harder— the idiot was bantering with him as easily as if they were sitting on a bench in a park.

  
“You— _I can’t believe you_ ,” Killua let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

  
“Don’t— don’t hate me, Killua—“ Gon said faintly, shivering. Blood now stained the grass in a rusty radius around them, but the rain had mercifully softened to a drizzle. “I won’t do it again next time.”

  
“Idiot. I don’t hate you.” Killua snapped.

 

  
“You look like you do.”

 

  
“Well, look again.”

 

  
“No, see, you’ve got that crinkle between your eyes that only appears when— _mmph_!”

  
Killua didn’t mean to, but since both of his hands were preoccupied — one on Gon’s shirt, the other on his back — he’d promptly crashed his lips to Gon’s in an attempt to shut him up.

  
He half-expected Gon to push him away. Instead, a hand found its way to the back of Killua’s head, fingers tugging determinedly at silver curls, not pulling him away — to Killua’s surprise — but holding him there instead.

  
Teeth grazed his bottom lip, and Killua shuddered, parting his lips and tasting the warmth that was Gon. With the rain running down their faces, it should’ve been gross and wet and uncomfortable, yet the kiss was anything but. Gon tasted of sunlight and determination and the barest hint of something sweet. With every movement of Killua’s mouth came an unspoken plea—

  
_Don’t leave me_

 

_  
Stay_

 

_  
Please_

 

  
Killua broke away to gasp for air, and searched Gon’s face for any indication of surprise or unease at what had just transpired between them. He found only a vulnerable sort of openness, and an amusingly indignant expression. Some of the warmth seemed to have returned in the tan face, not as ashen as it was a while ago.

 

  
“Not fair,” Gon rasped. Killua blinked, not sure he heard correctly.

  
“Mm?” Killua hummed, a question in his tone.

  
“I wanted to be the one to do that,” Gon frowned slightly.

  
Killua stared in disbelief for a moment, and exhaled a laugh. That kind of response was _so Gon_.

  
“Next time, then.” Killua murmured, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together.

  
“ _Ne_ , Killua...”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I have something to tell you.”

  
Gon shifted around nervously. Killua tilted his head curiously.

  
“I did finish your ice cream earlier,” Gon lowered his gaze guiltily.

  
“Ah. Should’ve known you’d blame it on Leorio,” Killua snorted. _So that was what tasted sweet._ “I’ll have to apologize to the old geezer later, then—“

  
“You threatened to kill him,” Gon remembered.

  
“I did not—“

  
“ _With a spoon._ ”

  
“It was a _chocolate_ sundae.”

  
“That doesn’t justify a death threat!” Gon’s laugh was so light and contagious that Killua found himself smiling reluctantly. Why shouldn’t he? Gon seemed better already, and they were happy, and they were safe.

  
“Don’t tire yourself out, dumbass,” Killua flicked the tip of Gon’s nose affectionately, “We’ll move as soon as you can take it.” Gon mumbled something in agreement and rested his head on Killua’s shoulder.

  
“Killua?”

  
“Mm?”

  
“You taste like melted chocolate, you know.”

  
“Idiot. I don’t need to hear that from you.”

  
“Killua?”

  
“Mm?”

  
“I feel so light.”

  
“Probably just fatigue. Stop talking.”

  
“Killua?”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I want some ice cream.”

  
“We’ll get some later.”

  
“Killua?”

  
“Gon?”

  
“What is it, Killua?”

  
“ _Dumbass_ — you were the one asking, remember?”

  
“Oh, then, Killua?”

  
“Mm?”

  
“Tell Leorio I’m sorry, ‘kay?”

  
“Why not do it yourself? Can’t handle the guilt, huh?” Killua teased. He waited for the indignant reply.

 

  
“Hey, Gon?”

 

  
“Gon?”

 

  
“ _Gon_ —“

 

 

No answer. 

 

And Killua knew, without looking down, that they weren’t going to be having ice cream later.

  
_But you promised_

~~~

  
_The day that the rain tasted like melted ice cream was the day Killua got his first kiss._

_  
And his last._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say sorry ;-; I wanted to take a break from happy fics and I admit it is not a healthy coping mechanism. I did leave out a lot of stuff unexplained though, like does Alluka even exist in this version? (No) Or who were those Nen blade wielders that the all-powerful Gon couldn’t defeat? (No idea there, honestly). But the main objective was to— um, yeah. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, though :>


	4. betrayed by bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gon made Killua hurt in all the wrong places.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: canon universe, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might’ve noticed that I removed one chapter from this collection— actually, I remodeled it a bit since I realized the concept fit [the song in the title](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WHOjuCYSYlk) and I recommend listening to it while reading this because the music is just lovely. 
> 
> For guidelines (because I like my writing messy):  
> Bold + Italicized = song lyrics  
> Italicized = Killua’s (or Gon’s) internal voice 
> 
> I haven’t done a song fic in so long, so I apologize if it’s crap— but it’s as if these lyrics were written particularly for these two dorks and I could not let that opportunity go to waste, and now here we are, I guess.

 

 **_How could it be?_  
** _**That tendons bound to bones within my feet**_  
_**Were bound to believe  
That they should move themselves to up and leave**_

****

**_I should say that I'm sorry on their behalf  
_** _I should say something funny  
But you will not laugh_

  
Gon blinked dazedly as translucent sunlight settled on his face, filtered by fluttering curtains. He sat up and hugged his knees to his chest, gazing down at the bustling street below his bedroom window.

  
He remembered yesterday only too clearly— a barrage of death threats, reprimands, and insults poured in through the phone’s receiver, and all these from the people he’d missed the most.

  
He’d made lots of reassurances—

  
_No, I won’t do it again_

_Yes, I’ll inform you next time I decide to disappear_

_Of course I’m not being a smartass_

And a promise, Gon thought. _I made a promise._

  
“Well,” he grunted as he slid off the bed, pulling on a tank top and almost reached for the green jacket, but thought better of it and shoved his hands in green shorts instead.

  
“It’s a good day for a hunt, Killua,” Gon grinned, wanting the breeze to carry his words and send them scattering in pieces to silver-dust hair and narrowed eyes and a wicked half-smile.

 **  
****_I didn't see the steps I took_  
** _Had taken you from me_  
**_Where would we be  
If I let myself be swept away to sea_**

 **_I would cry out to tell you_  
** _**But you'd not be there**_  
**_I would cry out to tell you  
But you wouldn't care_**

  
“ _YOU BRAT— HAVE YOU NO OTHER HOBBIES THAN PURPOSEFULLY TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED? I’M BARELY 25 AND YOU’VE JUST ABOUT GIVEN ME TWICE AS MANY HEART ATTACKS, I—_ “

Leorio broke down, an almost comical sight were it not so heart-warming. Tears streamed down the sides of his face and down a crooked nose, fogging up too-small sunglasses.

 

Kurapika calmly disentangled the phone from Leorio’s shaking fingers, and in a cool, curt voice, delivered a death threat that involved throwing Gon off the roof of Yorknew City’s tallest skyscraper, if he ever disappeared like that again. A chuckle came from the other end of the phone, and Killua closed his eyes and blocked out that terribly familiar sound and the warmth it bled inside.

 

_It’s not him— not him not him not him_

  
Because after all this time Killua had just spent convincing himself so, why would it be otherwise? Tan skin in his peripheral vision, a fleeting glimpse of moving limbs, the ghost of Gon’s earthy scent— all these, Killua had taught himself to accept as afterimages of time spent with the boy who was light itself.

  
And Killua was doing fine, actually. Some days were good— he would smile a bit more and the hurt would pierce a little less. He could think about his and Gon’s misadventures without dissolving into inexplicable sadness. But bad days come hand in hand with good ones, and on those days, not even Alluka’s soothing presence could soften the reality that _Gon was not there anymore_. On bad days, Killua just stopped _being_ — because every little thing required effort, and every effort hurt like a twisted punch.

  
_So it couldn’t be Gon—_

  
A hand touched Killua’s arm, and sound flooded back into his senses. Kurapika looked at him concernedly, and held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you,” the Kurta said quietly.

  
Killua stared in disbelief. Didn’t Kurapika know that handing over the phone meant the destruction of a sanctuary Killua had built for the very intent of keeping such impossibilities out? Just yesterday he was certain Gon existed only in hazy daydreams, yet now he here was, calling the three of them through a mobile phone as casually as if he were asking them to hang out.

  
But then again, Killua hadn’t been undone by so many things just for nothing.

  
He reached out for the phone, and Kurapika obliged. “We’ll be outside,” Kurapika smiled, and unceremoniously dragged an emotional Leorio away. “ _BUT THIS IS MY APARTM_ —“ Killua snickered as Leorio’s protests were cut off by the door clicking shut.

  
He turned over the beetle-shaped contraption in his hand, studying it, remembering better days when they’d used this phone. He almost forgot there was someone on the other line when he heard a rustling sound and a faint voice.

 

“ _Killua? Is that you?_ ”

 

  
Suddenly, Killua was sure the loneliness he’d been carrying for almost two years now was tangible, and he knew that if he spoke, Gon would hear it in the fissures of his cracked voice.

  
“Gon,” he managed to choke out, and he thought he heard a quiet sound that might’ve been a suppressed sob— but why would it be? It was just Gon, after all. Gon, uncaring of anything that could not stimulate his sense of adventure.

  
He heard the peculiar sound again, and then a “ _Killua, I—_ “

 

  
“No,” Killua cut him off with a whisper, a plan already formulated in his mind.

 

“ _Find me,_ ” Killua said quietly, challenge coloring his tone.

 

A pause from the other line, and then a resolute _“I will_.” And Killua could hear the stubborn smile in Gon’s voice as he terminated the call with a press of a button.

  
Killua looked out of the apartment’s small window and down at the quiet, quaint street below. The only sounds were the soft calls of birds and the occasional trudge of a passerby.

  
_Time to start moving again._

  
**_I know I'm not leaving  
I know I believe it_ **

  
“Seriously, Killua? I mean, the tour guides did say a suspicious white-haired boy kept coming here everyday, but I didn’t think— “

  
Fast as, well, _lightning_ — Killua grabbed Gon’s wrist and flipped him on his back, effectively cutting off his taunting.

  
“ _Shut up,_ ” Killua growled, feeling his face heat up, to his immense horror. “I wasn’t trying hard, anyway.”

  
“They told me you returned—“

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Everyday—“

 

“I said—“

 

“Always at sundown—“

 

“Purely coincidental.”

 

“They said you looked like you were waiting for someone,” Gon’s eyes were much too bright to look at. _He_ was too much.

  
Tears stung the back of Killua’s eyes, threatening to expose the heartache that lurked there. He pressed a sharp fingernail against where Gon’s pulse began.

  
“You little _shithead_ ,” Killua hissed, “We thought you were _dead_ — if you ever do anything like that again, you— I-I’ll—“

 

“I missed you, too.” Gon cut him off with a laugh. And that was all it took for all the accumulated hurt and anger and worry to dissipate.

  
Killua hated himself for it.

 

_The audacity of this bastard—_

 

Killua shoved Gon’s chest roughly to stand up, and held out a hand. Gon took the offered limb, and it was just _ridiculous_ how Killua still shivered when their bare palms touched; as if all the fights each had fought without the other were bursting to tell their own stories through a single sensory experience.

Two years had been too long.

 

 **_Oh how could it be_  
** **_These teeny little things within your knees_**  
**_Bring you to me  
And they can keep on moving when you sleep_**

****

They stood there under the shadow of the looming World Tree, and from this angle they couldn’t even see where the top disappeared into the flimsy clouds. The dying rays of the sun painted the skies with oranges and violets and a promise of black. People had started to go back to their hotels, and there weren’t even many tourists to begin with, Killua knew, during this time of the year.

  
The clouds moved, the people moved, the sun moved, but the two adolescents did not.

  
“So, the World Tree...” Gon trailed off and grinned at Killua out of the corner of his eye.

  
“Yeah, uh, this was the last place where we saw each other, and I thought— well—“ Throat tightening, Killua shoved his hands in their respective pockets and looked pointedly at anything but Gon.

  
“Huh. And here I thought you wanted a hunt— could’ve at least given me a challenge,” Gon laughed, moving closer, the sun’s last light seemingly trapped in his too-bright, dancing eyes.

  
“Maybe,” Killua said quietly, finally looking at Gon, “maybe I wanted to be found.”

  
The weight of Gon’s stare and the silence that followed was _terrible_ , but Killua did not falter.

  
Gon opened his mouth to say something, and Killua waited for words that would fix everything. Instead—

  
“That’s such a lame excuse, Killua!” Gon was shaking with barely suppressed laughter, and the almost-forgotten sound made Killua breathless. “You could’ve just admitted that you’re terrible at it,” Gon snorted.

  
“Ugh, shut up! I told you I wasn’t even trying.” Killua was trying his damn best not to look away embarrassedly.

 

“Oh, sure.”

 

“And just _what_ is that supposed to mean?”

 

Gon snickered, “Killua Zoldyck, prodigy and former assassin, resorts to underhanded sentimental—“

 

“Gon, I swear— _what are you doing?_ ” Killua trailed off in alarm, because sometime during the banter, Gon had subtly moved and now he was just centimeters away, breath fanning Killua’s face, sending his bangs fluttering slightly.

  
“Or maybe,” Gon suggested, the corners of his lips turned up, “maybe you really just missed me.”

  
“Or maybe you just have a really big head,” Killua snapped, trying not to show the hitch in his breaths because Gon was _too damn close_ and it was not doing wonders for his concentration.

  
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for the sentimental type, Killua.”

 

“Two years is a long time,” Killua said quietly, “lots of things could change. _Lots_.” And they knew they weren’t talking about lame excuses anymore.

  
“We’re barely kids anymore, Gon.” Killua sighed.

 

“I know,” Gon said softly.

 

“I’m tired.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Everyone was worried.”

 

“I’m really sorry.”

 

“You can’t keep saying that every time, you moron; it loses its meaning.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Then why—“

 

Killua felt a warm body tackle his, and he had to grasp at anything just to keep his balance, so surprised was he at the sudden action. ~~Fortunately~~  Unfortunately, he was able to catch a hold of the back of Gon’s clothes, unintentionally pulling him closer.

  
_Did he trip? Did someone or something push him?_

  
It was only when Gon made no move to let go that Killua thought _oh_ —

  
Gon held him as tightly as if it were atonement for all the things he’d done. Killua stiffened, but almost immediately melted in the embrace. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he let them rest lightly on Gon’s back. He felt Gon’s lean frame trembling, and it made his stomach tighten. 

  
Gon buried his face in the warm crook where Killua’s neck met his shoulder, fingers grasping tightly at the other boy’s back, and Killua wanted to kick himself when he let out an involuntarily shaky breath. The force of the embrace should’ve bruised Killua everywhere, so why did it start this peculiar twisting pain only in his chest?

  
“If you think I’ll forgive you easily—“ Killua started, but was cut off by Gon’s rumbling laughter, which Killua felt all over his body. He resisted the urge to move closer when Gon finally pulled away.

  
“Next time, I’ll call.” Gon offered a rueful smile.

 

  
**_I know I'm not leaving_  
** **_You all alone_  
** _I know I believe it_  
_**And so do my bones**_  
**_So do my bones  
So do my bones_**

****

_No— no more next time. Just don’t go_

 

“I still want to kill you.” Killua grumbled half-heartedly.

 

Gon smiled.

 

And just like that, Killua was home.

 

 **  
**_I could lead a stationary life_  
_And you will see and you'll believe_  
_**My love is carried to you by my feet**_  
**_My bones are wrong sometimes  
Sometimes my bones are wrong_**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I absolutely detest the idea of a muscular Gon, idk why?? Anyone with me? No?
> 
> And I know there was no smooching in this fic, but I wanted to be able to convey the emotion of the story without resorting to, as Gon said, underhanded sentimental ways.


	5. sick of losing soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on an AU prompt where people are born with a counter on the palm that depicts how many times you pass your soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly my first soulmate AU fic ever written, and I’m usually not fond of these pieces because I prefer to stay as close to the canon universe as much as possible, but I wanted to give it a shot. 
> 
>  
> 
> Song in the title: [Sick of Losing Soulmates by Dodie Clark](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mHUIoikgKT0)
> 
>  
> 
> Hehehe. Song pun intended.

  
Killua’s day had been bad enough as it was, but getting his favorite beverage spilled all over him surely took the cake.

 

  
Plus points for the fact that he wasn’t even the one drinking it.

 

  
The series of unfortunate events started when he woke up nearly frozen earlier that morning, the first flakes of winter brought into his room by the sweeping gales of December, through the window he’d accidentally left open half-way, directly above his head. Grumbling, he moved to shut it close. Looking out the said window, the picturesque sight of frosted streets and houses almost made up for the unbecoming he way he was woken up. _Hot chocolate weather,_ he thought, reluctantly happy.

  
Then he stood up, and slipped on the blanket on the floor.

  
“Great. Lovely.” Killua grunted and shakily regained his footing, sheets pooling around his feet. He winced as his bare toes made contact with the stinging coldness of the tiled floor, hastening to the bathroom.

  
As he brushed his teeth in front of the body-sized mirror, he took in his disheveled appearance _(not something he usually did, because what could possibly be there to gain in doing so?)_ and grimaced at what he saw — white hair that never seemed to grow out anywhere except for his bangs, already obscuring tired blue eyes, thin, lean frame in need of more sustenance other than Chocorobos, chalky skin paler than usual from lack of sunlight or sleep or both.

  
After rinsing out and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, Killua absentmindedly checked the counter on his palm— a habitual action.

  
It still read a big, fat zero _(although it was actually the size of his pinky nail, situated near the soft part where his thumb and index finger met),_ whereas most people he knew had already been visibly marked by the presence of their soul mates.

  
Not that he was noticing them or anything.

  
The counter supposedly kept track of the number of times a person passed by their ‘soulmate’. It wasn’t uncommon for the numbers to reach past a thousand, but a million on a palm incited respect, envy, and sometimes longing.

  
Killua let out a snort as he made his way to the closet— how stupid was it to leave something so important to an inexplicable, seemingly omnipotent force? Granted, they didn’t actually _have_ to be with the person deemed as their ‘soulmate’, and as far as Killua knew, there were no consequences for doing so, but couldn’t a person at least have the liberty of choosing who it’d be?

  
He looked down again at the forlorn number on his palm, and rubbed his face tiredly. Killua knew there existed cases wherein a person could grow old and die without ever having met their supposed ‘soulmate’. And those cases weren’t exactly rare, either, considering that one’s ‘soulmate’ could be anywhere— from the other side of the equator, to right next to your house. Those belonging to the latter part were the lucky ones.

  
And it seemed like people around him were getting generously showered with good luck.

  
He grabbed the nearest woolen sweater, a pair of gloves, and some jeans. A scarf was added as an afterthought.

  
Slipping out of the house proved to be easy, especially since his parents were away on one of their frequent business trips, and it didn’t hurt that his elder brothers never seemed to mind or care what he did, as long as it didn’t interfere with whatever they conducted behind closed mahogany doors.

  
His footsteps barely rung out — even in the ridiculously grand hall where everything echoed — silent thanks to years of practice.

  
Killua winced a little at the loud creak the double doors made, old as the mansion itself.

  
He stepped outside, and was greeted with harsh winter winds that pulled at his clothes and tore at his hair. Killua let the cold bite into exposed skin and shivered at the delicious pain. He loved going to his favorite coffee shop on blizzard days like these, when he knew no one else would be stupid enough to be out and about.

  
Luckily, the cafe just happened to be a few blocks away, and he reached it in no time. As he entered the door, his senses were immediately assaulted with the sharp, bitter scent of coffee, the sweet smell of burnt sugar, and the aroma of freshly baked pastries. Rubbing his hands and blowing into them for warmth, Killua took his place at the end of the line of a few caffeine-starved people.

  
Killua heard a little chime as the door opened once more, and bit back a gasp as he felt a sharp gust of wind ghost across his back. He hissed audibly in annoyance; were it any other day, he would’ve just shrugged it off, but today he was cranky and cold and wet all over. Killua turned to glare at the newcomer.

  
A girl. And as she waved a hand in apology, Killua noted the “ **0** ” etched visibly on her palm with some surprise. He didn’t have to peek at his own gloved hand to know that the same digit hid there. Something in his gut twisted uncomfortably— what were the odds? Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most romantic person, but the very prospect of meeting his ‘soulmate’ intrigued him more than he’d care to admit.

  
_Maybe_ , Killua thought, _just maybe_ —

  
The girl started making her way towards Killua. If she moved any further, she would _pass right by him_.

 

_Three steps._

 

Killua would never admit the way his heart leapt into his mouth, frenzied and jumping with all the possibilities.

 

_Two steps._

 

 _Maybe_ , Killua thought again, gripping the fabric of his right glove.

 

 _One_.

 

The second she passed Killua, he pulled off his glove half-way to reveal a

 

visibly

 

  
ink-black

 

  
“ **0** ”.

  
He turned to look for the girl again, only to see her go into the direction of the restrooms.

  
_Oh_.

  
... The cold was getting to him— a few minutes in a blizzard, and here he was, already crafting scenarios worthy of being depicted on a romance novel cover. It was just sad.

  
He needed caffeine. And sugar.

  
He shuffled forward as the line shortened, leaving him next to order. He was itching to get out of the shop and away from his embarrassingly maudlin scenarios, but the guy in front of him was taking _way_ too long to order. He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a minute, and let out a quiet _“finally”_ when the person pulled out his wallet to pay. But as the person in front turned to leave, Killua, in his impatience, rushed towards the counter at the same time.

  
Killua wasted no breath in spewing out choice profanity as he felt the drink spill all over the front of his sweater. He knew it wasn’t the person’s fault, not exactly, but he wanted a scapegoat for all the troubles the world seemed to want to throw at him today. Killua stared at the person whose mouth seemed to be working on an unformed apology. He looked to be around Killua’s age, with ridiculous, spiky black hair and wide, tawny eyes. His complexion was a stubborn tan, as if refusing to let go of the sun even in the middle of winter, with a smattering of freckles across a pointed nose and rounded cheeks.

  
“I’m terribly sorry, do you want tissues? I—“ Killua didn’t trust himself to answer, so he merely shoved past the lean figure offering him help and rested his hands on the counter. Glancing down, he noticed that his gloves also fell victim to the hot liquid attack. Grimacing, he pulled them off, and shoved them in the back of his pocket.

 

The tan boy was still staring at him.

 

Besides that, the first thing Killua noticed was, of course, the person’s hands, bare and still raised upwards with his palms facing forward — in an apologetic gesture or a don’t-kill-me one, Killua wasn’t sure — and a small “ **1** ” inked on the skin where the thumb met the index finger.

  
_So he was one of those._ Reminded of his earlier incident, Killua’s temper inevitably rose as he stared at the digit on the tan hand.

 

 _“What?”_ Killua snapped, harsher than he intended it to be. He coughed gruffly, “I mean, sorry, I—“

  
“No, it’s fine, I thought— never mind,” the tan boy smiled ruefully and rubbed at the back of his neck. Looking at him, something in Killua’s chest loosened a bit; maybe it was the easy-going aura he excluded? “I’m sorry about your sweater.”

  
Killua shrugged, and turned back to the counter. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the door open, soft chimes ringing, and then shut again. “One large cup of hot chocolate,” he ordered, already bone-tired from today’s events. The least he could do for himself was buy his favorite drink.

  
“I’m sorry, but we’re all out.”

  
Killua got out his wallet to pay, then froze. “You _what?_ ”

  
“Yeah, sorry, that guy before you ordered the last one.” The barista jutted a thumb in the direction where the tan boy went out.

  
Killua stared at the door.

  
He wasn’t going to get all mad about missing out on a cup of hot chocolate— that level of childishness was _way_ beyond him. He liked to think he was pretty mature for his age, so no thank you, he was not going to go after the person who stole his favorite drink.

 

 

Killua ran out the door.

 

 

“Oi, you!” Killua yelled at the lean figure, easy to spot because he was bundled in a green parka, bright red scarf wrapped carelessly around his neck. He stood slightly hunched against the cold. The figure stopped walking, and turned to look at Killua. As he drew nearer, something about the way the tan boy looked amidst the falling snow made Killua feel... lonely. Like something in his chest was wound too tightly. The fight seemed to drain out of Killua as they stood staring at each other, only a few feet apart.

  
A curious tilt of the head had Killua gazing into intense tawny eyes. Before he could even say another word, a warm hand reached for his own, and something was pressed into it. Killua stared at the still full cup of hot chocolate (the amount not significantly lessened from the spill) and felt a warmth radiate throughout his body that he convinced himself had something to do with the beverage in his hand, and not the way the tan boy was looking at him.

 

  
“You looked cold, so I figured you’d want this. My name’s Gon, by the way— Gon Freecss.”

 

  
The tan boy now had a name. Killua snorted.

 

“What?” Gon asked curiously.

 

“Nothing. It’s just— your name,” Killua managed to get out between faint bursts of laughter.

 

Gon laughed too, not the least bit fazed. “Weird, right? So are you going to tell me yours?”

 

“Nope,” was Killua’s immediate answer. He expected Gon to be offended, but it merely elicited another laugh from him. “Seems fair,” Gon smiled, “shouldn’t be telling strangers stuff like that, anyway.”

 

“Then why’d you tell me?” Killua asked, twisting the cup in hands, focused on trying to find the warmest spot.

 

“Because you’re my soulmate, and it’d be kinda weird if you didn’t kn—“

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” Killua’s incredulous voice cut through Gon’s sentence effectively. He didn’t want to hear anymore after the words “you” and “soulmate”, never expected to hear those words strung together and directed at _him_. “You don’t know how this works, do you?”

  
“‘Course I do!” Gon lifted a palm for demonstration. “This keeps track of how many times your soulmate passes by.” The “ **1** ” stood out stark black against the pale skin of his palm. Killua despised it— despised everything it served as a reminder of, everything he couldn’t have.

  
“Exactly,” Killua said irritably, “and you’ve already passed by one— a soulmate, that is.” _And you should be going back to wherever they are, and not stand here being too nice to strangers who chase people down for a cup of hot cocoa._

  
Gon replied with another tilt of his head and— _looked like he was about to laugh_.

 

“ _What?_ ” Killua swore this boy was going to be the death of him.

 

“Check your palm, if you still don’t believe me,” the side of Gon’s mouth turned upwards into a half-smile.

 

_Oh. Right._

 

Killua looked down at his right hand, ungloved and pale, still wrapped around the steaming cup of hot chocolate. He stole a glance at Gon, who was wearing an expression so earnest it almost hurt to look at. He couldn’t believe anyone could mistake him for their soulmate, and he almost didn’t want to see Gon’s disappointment when he showed him the “ **0** ” he knew still marked his palm.

  
_The sooner you do this, the sooner you can leave_ , he told himself. And someday, if he ever got around to it, it could be a funny story to tell his hypothetical children.

  
Or not. He wasn’t overly fond of kids.

 

  
He made a big show of shifting the cup to his left hand, and without looking at his right, he raised it towards Gon palm-first.

 

 

“See? Sorry to disappoint, but—“

 

 

Faster than he expected, Gon’s warm hand grabbed his raised one again, and twisted it so that it faced Killua this time.

  
And there it was.

 

A “ **1** ” etched clearly on pale skin.

 

“Oh,” was all Killua could say.

 

_He had a soulmate._

_He passed by them somehow._

 

And he was standing right in front of—

 

 _No. Not him._ The level of mortification, if Killua found out that the tan boy with tawny eyes and a perpetual grin on his face was actually the person designated for him, would be too much to bear.

  
_Maybe it really was the girl from the coffee shop?_ Killua swiveled around to check if she or anyone was out on the streets.

  
No such luck. Not a breath stirred the quiet air, no cars or dogs or bicycles passed by. The snow fell on, with the occasional rustle of leaves its only accompaniment. Forget about being the last two people in the town— it felt like he and Gon were the last two people on the planet.

 

“But you already had a “ **1** ” on your palm,” Killua protested weakly, trying to come up with more reasons.

  
“It actually wasn’t there until ten minutes ago, when you shoved past me,” Gon explained, “that’s why I was looking at you. I saw your counter move.”

 

“Prove it,” Killua scoffed. _How convenient was it that he also happened to see his “ **0** ” turn into a “ **1** ”? Too convenient to be true, that’s what._

 

  
Instead of answering, though, Gon closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his head up as if greeting the falling snowflakes. Killua found the sight unusually satisfying— Gon, standing there, with all his warmth and brightness, seemingly defying even the dullness of the winter. Killua was almost disappointed when Gon broke the spell to open his mouth—

 

“Then, want me to pass by you again?”

 

  
The offer hung in the air. Gon continued, “You can look at the counter yourself, see if it moves.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?” Killua swallowed thickly.

 

Gon shrugged, “I’ll leave you alone.”

 

For some reason, Killua was a little disappointed at the lack of fight in Gon’s conceding answer.

 

“Alright,” Killua said quietly in an almost-whisper.

 

Gon started walking towards him.

 

_Three steps._

 

Killua shut his eyes. He could have this— he could have tan skin, too-bright eyes, and warmth. But did he want it? 

 

_Two steps._

 

He could have this— but such was the danger of divine humor. Somebody or something up there wouldn’t miss the chance to turn Killua’s life into a humorous anecdote.

 

 _One_.

 

He felt the air shift when Gon passed by. Killua’s eyes opened, blinking in the weak sun. He looked down at his hand. He didn’t feel any different. For a heart-wrenching second, nothing happened. Then Killua nearly reeled back in surprise when he saw the newly etched “ **1** ” turn miraculously, impossibly, into a “ **2** ”.

 

Killua turned to look at Gon— all bright colors and warm hues, striking against the stark winter white. Gon lifted a hand palm-first to show off his “ **2** ”, proudly inked and permanent on his skin.

 

_He wanted this._

 

“What?” Gon asked teasingly, tawny eyes sparkling with mischievous humor. Killua bit his lip, thinking of something snarky to reply with. Instead—

 

“I’m Killua. Killua Zoldyck.”

 

The smile Gon answered with made Killua’s chest tighten and the back of his eyes burn.

 

“And you said _my_ name was funny,” Gon laughed— a clear, bright sound reminiscent of summer days.

 

“Shut up,” Killua rolled his eyes and elbowed Gon good-naturedly. ~~_He wanted to find more excuses to touch him._~~

  
Killua suddenly realized he didn’t know what one was supposed to do after the finding-your-soulmate part; honestly didn’t think he’d get this far. He was saved from further debating with himself by Gon asking—

  
“Want to walk together?”

  
Killua shrugged in reply and started walking beside him. He didn’t have to look at Gon to know that the stupidly wide grin was still plastered on his face.

 

~~_And one was starting to spread across his face, as well._ ~~

 

Killua glanced sideways anyway. “ _Idiot_ , what’re you smiling for?”

 

Being called an idiot didn’t even seem to faze Gon as he answered Killua’s question with his own, “Why’d you run after me in the first place?”

 

Killua blinked, not knowing how to answer without embarrassing himself. “I... was looking for something,” he said instead. He focused on the warmth of the cup in his hand, and the scratchy feel of the cardboard sleeve.

 

Gon stayed quiet thoughtfully for almost a minute.

 

“Did you find it?”

 

 

“Mm?” Killua hummed.

 

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”  
Gon asked, an open curiosity in his voice.

 

Killua looked at Gon then— drank in tawny eyes and mismatched clothes. He watched as snow fell on and clung to dark, spiky hair. Watched the corners of a mouth move upwards in a grin so big it swallowed Killua’s doubts.

 

 

“Yeah,” Killua half-smiled, “I found it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, especially since this stands as my first fic in this genre. Thankies! :>


	6. remorseless fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will cry— what’s the point of a summary? Hell, I’m crying right now. Sorry. It’s an AU, by the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentines’ Day is in a few hours and I drank too much coffee. I can’t even find an appropriate song for this oneshot. I apologize. That is all.

  
“What’s my favorite color?”

 

 

“... Blue. No, wait, it’s— yeah, it’s blue, isn’t it?”

 

 

“Nope. Black, actually.”

 

 

“Hmm. What’s _my_ favorite c—“

 

 

“Green.”

 

 

“How’d you— oh. You really _are_ smart, huh, Killua?”

 

 

“Well, one of us has to be.”

 

 

Gon laughed, breath brushing against the hollow of Killua’s neck, sending delicious shivers up the pale boy’s spine.

  
They stood there, swaying to music no one else could seem to hear, bathed in slanted light coming from the window shutters. Dying rays of dusk cast everything into colorful shadow. Soon, the brightest star would set, and give way to a thousand others. Killua prayed for someone to be able to witness that sight.

 

  
“Your turn,” Killua nudged Gon’s forehead against his, still slowly spinning them around, urging the tan boy to do anything but stay quiet. They didn’t have the luxury or time to let the silence speak for them.

 

  
“Oh, sorry— I got drowsy for a bit,” Gon smiled sleepily, momentarily tightening his grip on Killua’s waist. Gon hummed thoughtfully while Killua ran his fingers lightly up and down his back, earning a minute gasp.

 

  
“W—Which do you prefer, coffee or tea?” The question came out slightly breathy as Killua pressed his lips to where Gon’s pulse began.

 

  
“Hot chocolate,” was Killua’s immediate answer, murmured against tan skin and a beating heart. Gon started to mutter something about not following the rules of the game, but the reprimand turned into a sigh instead.

 

 

“Why a _fishing rod?_ ” Killua asked this time.

 

 

“No— why a _skateboard?_ ” Gon retorted, lean frame shaking with barely suppressed laughs.

 

 

“Oh, shut up— it looked cool.” Killua lightly poked Gon’s side, making him squirm a bit. They reveled in the sweetness of their fleeting laughter. Killua found it hard to swallow as Gon took the lead.

 

 

“Hobbies?” Gon whispered along the ridges of Killua’s collarbones.

 

 

“Keeping watch over idiots who almost die at least twice a day.”

 

 

“Finish this: when I grow up, I want to be—?” Gon trailed off.

 

 

_With you,_ Killua thought. “Anything not related to the family business,” he answered instead.

 

Gon’s eyes softened at this, and his roaming hands stilled. Killua took this as an opportunity and brushed his lips across Gon’s cheek and jaw and neck, tracing a pattern he hoped would never disappear on the tan skin.

 

  
“My turn,” Killua whispered. “Favorite food?”

 

 

“Mito-san’s cooking!” Gon exclaimed excitedly.

 

 

“Dislikes?”

 

 

“Losing,” Gon answered. “And maybe Hisoka and your brother.”

 

 

“Should’ve guessed.” Killua laughed, fingers coming up to tug gently at dark, wild hair. “Likes?”

 

 

“ _You,_ ” was Gon’s immediate and unabashed reply. And that was all it took for Killua to be disarmed completely and lock his hands around Gon’s neck.

 

 

“ _Idiot_ ,” Killua murmured affectionately against the corner of Gon’s mouth, wanting to just kiss him senseless until their mouths were sore and they couldn’t breathe.

 

  
Tawny eyes locked with blue ones, hoping to drown in each other. They didn’t want to stop swaying for fear that they might never dance again. Killua wanted more, _so much more,_ for this boy with the sunlight in his veins and warmth in his fingertips. Gon deserved more time than what they had right now, deserved to be _happy_ and _alive_ and _whole_. Vision suddenly blurry, Killua hadn’t realized he was crying till he tasted salt and regret in his mouth.

  
“We’re stupid. This is stupid.” Killua looked at Gon helplessly through a hazy filter of tears, streaming incessantly down pale cheeks. Gon moved to wipe them away patiently, fingers lingering on Killua’s face. Killua leaned into the touch instinctively, closing his eyes.

 

  
“I know, right? There isn’t even any music, and we’re still dancing!” Gon said, mock-indignantly. Killua let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

 

  
Killua dared to steal a glance outside the window, and his chest tightened in fear at what he saw— the dusk that’d looked so beautiful just moments ago had now consumed the horizon, slowly burning the world outside in hues of orange and red. The comet was merely minutes from entering the atmosphere. They could be crushed by the fractals any second.

 

  
“Hey, look at me—“ Gon gently but firmly guided Killua’s chin in his direction. “We’re not done yet— it’s my turn, remember?”

 

  
“Y—Yeah, go ahead,” Killua exhaled shakily.

 

 

“Killua,” Gon looked at the other boy directly, “If we had time, would you have married me?”

 

 

This actually knocked the breath out of Killua’s lungs. He managed to choke out a quiet, “Would you have asked?”

 

 

“There’s no one else I’d want to ask but you,” Gon said simply, straightforwardly. Tears stung the back of Killua’s eyes again, and he reached up to wipe them before they started falling. This terrible, impulsive, unpredictable mess of tan limbs and determination was _his_. Belonged to Killua only.

 

 

“So, Killua, would the hypothetical you marry hypothetical me? Hypothetically, of course.” Gon’s mock-professional tone only served to amuse Killua further, and both boys were snickering in no time.

 

 

“If hypothetical you proposed with Chocorobots, then hypothetical me would probably consider it.” They stared at each other for a second before breaking out again in the kind of laughter that hid aching hearts.

 

 

Killua wrapped his arms fully around Gon’s neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder, and Gon tightened his arms around Killua’s middle, both not wanting to leave spaces in between, grounding themselves with the mere press of skin against skin.

 

  
Killua started tracing mindlessly across the expanse of Gon’s back, enjoying the trembling of the lean frame. It took him a while to realize that the patterns he was drawing were actually _words_ — words that he repeatedly printed with his fingers on the back of Gon’s shirt, hoping it would reach into his skin and sink into bone. They were still swaying to unheard music. He looked out at the window again.

 

  
He had never seen a more beautiful sight— the comet had now entered the atmosphere, and the splintered pieces were hurtling towards the ground in short, bright bursts of light. It was only a matter of minutes now, but Killua didn’t feel terrified anymore; only felt a sense of surrender to something greater than himself.

 

  
He tried to commit to memory the way Gon’s strong arms felt, the rough calluses of his hands scraping Killua’s hips as he gripped him for all he was worth. Pinks and blues and violets painted the inside of Killua’s eyelids, but the colors wouldn’t form anything else but the shape of round cheeks, a pointed nose, the stubborn set of a mouth, and unruly, spiky hair.

 

  
“Hey, Killua?” He felt, rather than heard, Gon’s voice against his skin, sending vibrations that reached his toes.

 

 

  
“Mm?”

 

 

  
“I can hear the music.”

 

 

  
Killua pulled away to press his forehead against Gon’s. Breaths mingled between their mouths. He traced the words faster, _harder_ , on Gon’s back. Words he didn’t have the strength to say, words that he hoped Gon would forgive him for not giving life to.

 

 

_I love you._

 

 

Tawny eyes opened with a start, and Gon broke out into a smile so wide Killua knew that _Gon knew_. He sighed in relief, ceasing his trailing fingers. _Gon knew_ , and everything would be alright. A warm hand cupped the side of his face, and Killua turned to press his lips against the palm. Everything was alright now.

 

 

“Killua.”

 

 

  
“ _Gon_.”

 

 

  
“Killua, I love you, t—“

 

 

 

  
A flash of light, and then—

 

 

_silence_.

 

 

 

  
And if the fragments of stars were remorseful of what they’d witnessed, of what they’d _done_ , they stayed quiet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your Valentines’ Day, you lovely potatoes, ‘cause I sure as hell won’t. This fic destroyed me.


	7. simple as this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much, just your good ol’ regular fluff. My angsty phase has taken a break.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: AU, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in the title: [Simple As This by Jake Bugg](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xXnIMKceHkk)

  
Gon had never been quite as determined in doing something as he was in making Killua Zoldyck notice him.

  
So now he sat in one of the numerous empty plush chairs the local library provided, pretending to read a random book while subtly staring at the white-haired boy who frequented this particular place.

 

  
It was one of the things he admired about Killua— it’s probably been years since most kids their age had set foot in a library, and would’ve given you a blank look had you suggested they go there. But not Killua. If one could count the number of hours the pale boy spent surrounded by bookshelves and ink and the smell of old paper (of course Gon _did_ try, but fell asleep halfway through), one would think that Killua practically lived there.

 

  
Gon glanced at his wristwatch. It read 20 past 3 in the afternoon, and he sighed. If he knew Killua’s routine — and he did — Killua would probably be somewhere in his second, if not third, book. Gon took a look at the cover and noted that it was a novel, and from Killua’s favorite author, nonetheless.

 

  
“That Murakami person sure must be a hell of a writer,” Gon mumbled to himself approvingly. “Must be, if nearly all of his books caught Killua’s attention. Wish I could do that.”

 

  
Gon took Killua’s absolute immersion in the novel as an opportunity to gaze all he wanted. As usual, Killua’s wardrobe seemed to be limited to only black turtleneck sweaters and sleeveless shirts, and today he was wearing the former, but Gon thought Killua looked good in either. His hair was in its usual uncombed state, tufts of white wildly springing out in every direction, sharp bangs falling in front of his face. There was a growing pile of books beside his elbow, chin propped up on an open palm, eyes half-lidded but failing to conceal brilliant blues. A ghost of a smile played around the corners of his lips. Gon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from exclaiming out loud when Killua let out a little snort at something humorous he read.

 

  
_Look at me,_ Gon thought. _Just one glance._

 

  
Killua kept on reading, oblivious to Gon’s nonverbal pleadings.

 

Gon sighed, but almost immediately sat up straight. If Killua liked Murakami’s writing so much, then it’d make sense that he’d notice people who read the books too, right?

 

  
Gon snuck up to where he knew Murakami’s books were placed, which also conveniently happened to be the bookshelf situated nearest to Killua, directly behind him. Gon leaned casually against the shelf while reciting random Murakami book titles, feigning great interest.

 

 

“The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles? Now, that’s a favorite of mine!”

 

 

“Sputnik Sweetheart was heartbreaking, especially because of its... uh...” Gon fumbled for another title.

 

 

“The Magic Strings of— wait, that’s not right.”

 

 

“Norwegian Wood was excellent! But—“ Gon squinted at another book, “— Kafka On The Shore was something else,” Gon nodded to himself gravely until he was shushed by the passing librarian, an elderly thing that stooped a little and clucked, which inevitably reminded Gon of a hen.

 

 

“Sorry,” Gon smiled ruefully and pushed the last book in its place with a sigh. Remembering what he went there for, Gon turned eagerly to see if Killua had noticed his efforts.

 

 

The Zoldyck’s face still remained firmly planted in front of a book, but pale fingers drummed to a beat on the wooden table. Gon twisted further to catch a glimpse of this curiosity and saw, with a mixture of amusement and dismay, that Killua’s earphones were jammed in their respective places. Faint sounds of electric guitar solos leaked from the devices. _No wonder he couldn’t hear anything_. Gon knew that Killua was most immersed in reading when listening to music— another oddity. It seemed music helped him focus.

 

Gon liked it.

 

But it wasn’t helping him get anywhere near Killua noticing him.

 

 

Sighing, Gon flopped back down on his chair, sinking into the worn-out leather. He lazily draped the book he was holding earlier over his face, each breath sending the pages fluttering. _What a disastrous day,_ Gon thought. _Being ignored by your own—_

 

 

“ _Idiot_ ,” a familiar voice cut through Gon’s depressing thoughts. “Why were you early again this time?”

 

 

A hand suddenly lifted the novel from Gon’s face, revealing amused, half-lidded blue eyes, earphones slung carelessly around a pale neck, and a mouth twitching obviously at the corners, trying but failing to convey exasperation.

 

 

“Killua!” Gon exclaimed the name with breathless excitement and wonder. He didn’t think the pale boy would’ve noticed.

 

~~~

 

Killua noticed. 

 

It was almost endearing, Killua thought, the way that Gon didn’t seem to think Killua paid attention to his clumsy efforts. It was hard not to laugh outright and keep pretending to read Murakami when Gon unknowingly kept amusing him out of the corner of his eye. 

 

It was even harder not to grin like an idiot when Gon called out his name in _that_ way— breathing out “Killua!”, full of reverence and wonder. 

 

 

“You’d think we haven’t been seeing each other for weeks,” Killua bemusedly smiled instead. 

 

 

This earned the pair another hushed reprimand from the librarian, who appeared to be hiding a smile.

 

 

“Knew she always liked us,” Killua shook his head.

 

“How’d you know it was me?” Gon asked wonderingly.

 

“You were reading the book upside down. Come on, let’s walk.” Killua motioned outside with a nod. As they reached the sidewalk, Killua glanced over at Gon, who couldn’t seem to stop staring.

 

 

“ _What?_ ” Killua raised an eyebrow.

 

“What?” Gon imitated innocently.

 

Killua rolled his eyes. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” He flicked Gon’s forehead none-too-gently. “Why were you early? Doesn’t the Whale Island Carnival open at 4? And weren’t we supposed to meet there?”

 

“Ow,” Gon rubbed at the stinging mark. “Well, I was _really_ excited that you agreed to go, and that we were finally visiting the carnival later, and I thought maybe you’d forgotten, and—“

 

Killua couldn’t help it— he let out an amused snort. He immediately caught himself, though, when he saw the slightly hurt look in Gon’s lowered eyes. He stopped walking and grabbed at the hem of Gon’s shirt, but Gon wasn’t looking at him. They stood like that for a few seconds, the rumble of vehicles and the soft chatter of people failing to drown the uneasy quiet settling between them.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just— I thought it was—“ Killua wasn’t used to stumbling over his words, wasn’t used to Gon being _quiet_.

 

“Thought it was what?” Gon asked timidly.

 

Killua steeled himself and inhaled deeply, turning his head away _because he could feel the heat creeping up his neck_. “Thought it was— cute. That you were excited, and-and— _don’t give me that look._ ” Because Gon had his eyebrows raised and a fist pressed to his mouth to keep from laughing.

 

“That’s it— I’m never apologizing to you again,” Killua snapped embarrassedly.

 

“You thought _I_ was _cute_ ,” Gon slowly reiterated, an almost-smug look painted across his features.

 

“No, I said _the way_ you were _excited_ was—“ Killua’s retort was cut short by a pair of arms suddenly wrapping around his waist and a warm face burying itself in the crook where his shoulder and neck met. Killua yelped as he was lifted momentarily off the ground, and he _swore_ he could feel Gon’s grin pressed against his skin.

 

 _The bastard, knowing exactly how to disarm me,_ Killua thought. Gon shifted to face Killua directly, and suddenly Killua couldn’t _think_ because Gon’s mouth was just centimeters away from his and the warm breaths that ghosted across his lips had him aching for something he didn’t know how to ask for.

 

“Well, why wouldn’t I be excited? It’s our first date, after all,” Gon smiled, eyes bright and roaming and seemingly memorizing every detail of Killua’s face.

 

 

“Tch. I wouldn’t call it a date yet— more of an extracurricular activity,” Killua grumbled.

 

 

  
“Really?” Gon asked, disappointment coloring his tone. 

 

 

  
“Yeah,” but at the sight of Gon’s slumped frame, Killua relented. “Though, I could always change my mind...” Killua almost laughed at the challenge that lit behind the tawny eyes.

 

 

“Then,” Gon stole a soft kiss— more of a brush of lips against Killua’s cheek, really— which had Killua gaping like an idiot, “We’ll see about that.” Gon took Killua’s hand, pulling him along to a sprint. 

 

Killua didn’t exactly know _why_ they were running— wind tearing at their clothes, the bright light of the sun rendering them sightless, the noise of the world around them a blurred cacophony. But then again, being with Gon meant one couldn’t count on an answer for everything, living life each day on the brink of uncertainty, a chance that one could fall any second. 

 

 

Killua could live with that. 

 

 

And so he ran too. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a prequel to chapter 2, aka “what transpired before Gon took Killua to the carnival”? Maybe.


	8. unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare and comfort fluff. Sweetness.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: canon universe, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, whoo, this is probs the steamiest chapter I’ve written (hint: it has implied _things _in it) bUT I STILL ADAMANTLY REFUSE TO WRITE SMUT. Contains a very Killua-aware Gon we all wish existed.__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
>   
> 
> 
> __  
> _Of course,[a song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FG2PgVl0Nlc)._  
> 

  
Being a Hunter means to travel, and in traveling, one tends to find unearthed beauty to be yet desecrated by human touch. True enough, Gon has seen and beheld sights like the melancholic Patch of Shore, the World Tree that never ceased to make him marvel at nature, and even the flight of a thousand swans illuminated by the dying rays of sunlight, glorious even in fading to night.

 

  
But the sight of Killua sleeping, curled on his side to face Gon, contained a world of wonder on its own that made the tan boy breathless.

 

  
Moonlight danced on sheets strewn across bodies, ghosting limbs barely touching each other, save for Killua’s thin fingers splayed lightly on Gon’s palm. He wanted to clutch onto those fingers, hold them as tightly as though they were a lifeline grounding him to the earth, but reminded himself that in doing so, Killua would wake.

 

  
Instead, Gon stared helplessly as his best friend stole away his breaths before they could even reach his lungs.

 

  
Soft light illuminated wisps of stardust hair falling over a pale face, dark lashes fluttering occasionally against rounded cheeks. The expression Killua wore was enough to make Gon cry in itself— it was one of complete and utter abandon to fatigue and sleep. Gon could count on one hand the number of people Killua would allow himself to fall asleep in front of.

  
Without even thinking about _why_ he was doing it, Gon was already lifting himself up on one side, hovering slightly over Killua. There was an aching in his chest at the sight of the voluntary vulnerability of one of the strongest people he knew.

  
Gon leaned forward slightly, driven by a fierce wanting for something more than he surely deserved. As his eyes fluttered shut, he heard a soft sound, and nearly fell off the bed in alarm. He scanned the room for intruders, the moonlight leaving no corners obscured by the dark. The sound came yet again, and Gon looked down at the source.

  
Killua’s face was contorted into a slight frown, eyes shut, and his fingers were twitching, itching to grasp onto something. His mouth opened, and Gon waited for the scolding sure to follow, but instead—

 

  
“ _Gon.”_

 

  
It wasn’t because Killua said his name in his sleep that made the twisting in his chest impossibly painful. No, it was _the way_ Killua whispered it— almost a whimper — that broke Gon’s heart. Wetness shone at the corners of Killua’s eyes, and traveled in a silver trail down his cheek.

  
What Killua could possibly be dreaming of, Gon had lots of ideas. Killua’s own family was a walking, waking nightmare, so it would be no surprise to find that they’d follow even in his sleep.

 

  
_He— he wanted... wanted to—_

 

  
Gon remembered the way his aunt Mito would press her lips to the side of his cheek whenever he’d come home with the slightest injury— fell out of a tree, scraped his knee, ran into an unfriendly foxbear...

 

  
Come to think of it, he’d gotten lots of kisses on the cheek.

 

  
So it would be fine if _he_ did it, right? To comfort Killua? Didn’t friends comfort each other?

 

  
_But not like this_ , a particularly pestering voice whispered in his mind.

 

  
He looked at Killua once more, a bundled mess of silver, the moonlight only serving to emphasize his paleness— he’d never looked so vulnerable before, even though Gon knew that was the exact opposite of the truth. Gon closed his eyes. He thought he felt a shift under the blanket, but it was probably just from his not-so-stealthy movements, slurred by sleep. He leaned forward and let gravity pull him down to press his lips against a moon-kissed cheek, but they brushed against _something_ startlingly softer. _Warmer_. Gon pulled back, flustered, only to find wide blue eyes staring up at him.

 

  
“Gon?” Killua whispered for the second time that night.

 

  
The tan boy couldn’t help but look down at Killua’s mouth — the mouth he’d _accidentally tasted_ — as it breathed out his own name in a way that sent shivers up his spine. He could still feel the delicate warmth of those lips, still feel Killua’s light and airy breath. Gon thought harder than he ever had in his life for some sort of rational excuse, but he knew it was no use— his position on top of Killua, face hovering merely inches away from his, gave his intentions away.

 

  
“Sorry,” Gon coughed awkwardly, instantly cringing at how loud it sounded amidst the quickly thickening silence between them. Killua didn’t move.

 

  
“M’sorry,” Gon exhaled a laugh in an attempt to lighten the situation. “Killua?”

 

 

  
“Say something,” Gon said quietly.

 

 

  
No answer.

 

 

  
“I—“ Gon began.

 

  
A hand suddenly found its way to the nape of his neck, and Gon, succumbing to the strain of holding his weight up on a forearm and sleep-deprivation, let himself be pulled on top of the warm body underneath him. And when Gon fell, he came crashing headlong.

 

  
It was a messy dance of roaming lips and grasping fingers and breathless laughs. Gon’s mouth landed on the side of Killua’s cheek in his furious descent, and he traveled from a tense jaw down to pale skin on an exposed neck. Killua let out an almost inaudible sigh, and Gon nearly sobbed. He wanted to draw out more of those noises from Killua, but he had other destinations in mind. He pressed his lips in a tingly trail that led up to Killua’s mouth.

 

  
It wasn’t a question of “Is this right?”, but “How can we forget this in the morning?”

 

  
As Killua’s hands found their way to the short hairs at the back of his neck, Gon shivered, and dove again and again to recapture lips below, barely remembering to breathe in his frenzied state. He wanted to make Killua undone, make him forget why he’d ever been afraid to sleep. Sensible as ever, Killua was the first to break off their lips, gasping for air. Their mouths were centimeters apart, and Gon fought the urge to make the spaces in between them nonexistent.

 

“Are you okay?” Gon breathed out instead. He moved to brush off stray white bangs that stuck to Killua’s forehead, fingers lingering at a pale temple.

 

 

“Could’ve asked me that before kissing me,” Killua snorted, still slightly panting. Gon was pleased to note that Killua didn’t shy away from his touch, not like he usually did.

 

 

“But Killua, you— _mmph!_ ” Gon’s protest was cut off by Killua’s mouth smashing against his. The sudden movement caught Gon off guard, and he fell onto his side, but his arm slung reflexively around Killua’s middle, effectively pulling him closer.

 

“Shut up,” Killua murmured against the side of his mouth. Gon agreed by shifting his head a little and aligning Killua’s lips to his own.

 

  
Sheets pooled around their feet, hands everywhere, fingers trailing and lips still moving. The heat was an affliction to which only Killua’s mouth was the antidote, cooling down skin everywhere he pressed his lips onto, but nothing could soothe the burning, coiling pit in Gon’s stomach that grew hotter with every touch of Killua’s graceful hands, running up and down the sides of his body.

 

  
“Gon,” Killua murmured again.

 

 

“Mmmh?”

 

 

“What— what do you want from me?” Killua sighed as Gon’s mouth brushed pale, sharp collarbones.

 

 

Gon reluctantly pulled away from Killua’s body. “I don’t— I—“ Gon looked directly into blue eyes glazed over with want and sleep. “ _I want to make you forget_ ,” Gon breathed out, almost growling in his intensity.

 

  
Killua looked at Gon in disbelief before meeting him halfway in another heated kiss.

 

  
Somehow, they were back to where they’d started— with Gon taking the lead on top, pinning down Killua’s wrists without even realizing it. Gon’s fingers felt like they belonged to someone else when they reached down and under the hem of Killua’s shirt. He looked at Killua for permission, tentatively running his fingers against the skin hidden there.

 

  
“We should, _ah_ , talk about this,” Killua panted, gently but firmly pulling Gon up to his face.

 

  
Gon merely pinned down Killua’s arms again, recapturing his mouth so fiercely it literally knocked the very wind out of Killua’s lungs. The force of it should’ve hurt, but the only thing Killua could feel was the mind-numbing ecstasy of the unfamiliar sensation of Gon’s lips against his, drawing out more and more of those sighs he wanted to keep hidden.

 

  
“In the morning,” Gon answered, mouth against Killua’s hammering pulse at his neck. Killua opened his mouth to argue, but Gon moved to smash their mouths together, and Killua reeled backwards, head dropping against the mattress. Every time Killua opted to say something, Gon took it as an opportunity to taste Killua’s lips again and again and again.

 

  
Finally, irritably, Killua flipped them over, their positions in reverse. He gazed down at Gon, and he found a hunger in his movements that he suspected he wouldn’t be able to satiate but for a touch.

 

 

“Fine, then— _in the morning,_ ” Killua relented.

 

 

Killua wanted to laugh at the challenge that lit up in Gon’s tawny eyes, but he was already being pulled downwards, mouth occupied.

 


	9. good things come in threes, but they came in twos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> setting: AU, probs old enough to live together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d always thought their verbal fights in the anime were adorable, so I tried to adapt them in this version. Established Killugon, yes. 
> 
>  
> 
> here, a [song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-HjpL-Ns6_A).

  
They’d had fights before, granted— but never one this _angry_ or _intense_ or _bitter_ , Killua was sure.

 

The two stood in the middle of the living area in their shared apartment, staring each other down a few feet apart. Killua wanted nothing more than to tear his eyes away from intense, inscrutable tawny ones— he was sure his own glare would betray the dulling ache in his chest.

 

“I just don’t understand—“ Gon began, but was immediately cut off by an almost inhumane hiss from Killua.

 

“I thought you would.” From any viewpoint, it was clear to see that Killua’s anger was merely a mask worn by pure grief and self-depreciation. Killua only hoped it wasn’t obvious to blundering, lovable, stubborn idiots not unlike the one in front of him.

 

“I don’t want this anymore,” Killua said quietly, willing his voice not to break, lest Gon hear the opposite of what he meant in the fragments.

 

“Don’t want _what_ , Killua?” Even in exasperation, Gon’s gaze was tender and pained and it wrenched Killua’s heart like a fist.

 

“This,” Killua whispered. “The uncertainty. _All of it_. I—“

 

“And I keep telling you not to make my decisions for me, don’t I?” Gon breathed out lowly. This was the closest Killua had ever seen him to something akin to anger. Gon’s pupils were blown out, only the slightest ring of gold visible in his glare.

 

“You don’t understand, I—“ Killua nearly sobbed out.

 

“ _Then help me understand you_ ,” Gon pleaded, looking away in frustration, hands clenching and unclenching.

 

The next word sounded so far away that Killua wasn’t even sure he’d spoken it until he saw Gon’s eyes widen in disbelief.

 

“ _Leave_.”

 

  
“Leave?” Gon echoed in shock, not wanting to believe that _Killua_ , of all people, had uttered that singular command.

 

“I knew you were stubborn, but I didn’t think you were _deaf_.” The statement could’ve almost passed for one of their usual teasing jabs were it not for the way it was spit out harshly from Killua’s trembling lips.

 

“You want me to leave,” Gon reiterated slowly, wonderingly. For every second the tan boy stayed in the room, Killua assigned a reason not to barrel straight into Gon’s arms and just let himself be enfolded in warmth and light and everything good and _temporary_. He fought to keep his feet grounded.

 

“ _Yes_.” Killua swallowed hard, minding the planet-sized lump in his throat. He didn’t dare blink, blurry as his vision was, knowing that to let the tears fall would mean to admit defeat, and succumbing to raw emotions wasn’t an option for assassins, albeit former ones.

 

Gon stood still for so long that Killua thought he could almost feel the weight of thick silence that had settled between them.

 

 _It’ll be like ripping off a bandaid,_ Killua thought. _Quick and painful. Painful. Quick._

 

“Take what’s yours, and _leave_.” Killua mustered all the exasperation he could into that single sentence, and it tired him.

 

“Fine.” Came Gon’s quiet reply.

 

 _You weren’t supposed to say that— say “no”,_ but Killua bit his lip in time to prevent the words from spilling out.

 

He lifted his head minutely to look at Gon directly in the eyes— he figured he owed him that, at least. But what Killua saw made his stomach drop from a hundred feet instead.

 

Gon’s eyes glinted with something terribly familiar that made Killua instinctively think _oh no_. When Gon finally moved, it was to step forward, to move closer to Killua. The pale boy tensed all over, knowing that Gon would never hurt him, but _god forbid_ he ruin the newly-bought, expensive coffee table in a bout of uncontrolled anger.

 

So it knocked Killua off of his feet — literally — when Gon swept him up and into his arms.

 

 

Bridal style.

 

 

Too disarmed to move, Killua only vaguely noticed that they were heading towards the door. “ _What_ in the ever-loving _fuck_ are you _doing?_ ” Killua snapped, but made no move to free himself from tan arms.

 

Gon only spared an amused glance down at the glaring, flustered mess that was Killua. “I’m taking what’s _mine_ , and I’m _leaving_ ,” Gon said smugly, corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

 

 

Bastard.

 

 

 _The reasons, assign the reasons_ , Killua thought. Again, for every step Gon took, Killua assigned a reason not to stay. When he ran out of reasons, he promptly reached up to grab the back of Gon’s neck, and pulled him down to smash their mouths together.

 

Without hesitation, Gon pushed Killua up against a wall, supporting his weight, all the while kissing back fiercely, almost furiously. Killua’s legs wrapped automatically around Gon’s waist, nails scraping the nape of his neck. The sharp cold of the cement seeped through Killua’s clothes and into his skin, inducing a soft gasp from the pale boy. This was a mistake, of course, for Gon took it as an excuse to slip his tongue in his mouth and that was all it took for Killua to unravel.

 

For each kiss, each sigh, each touch, Killua assigned a reason to _stay_.

 

Not even ten minutes later, Killua had already almost forgotten why he’d even wanted Gon to leave— instead, he focused solely on the feel of Gon’s skin against his, the synchronization of their mouths, and the pulsing heat between their bodies. _Why did I want to let go of this?_ Killua wondered. Gon let his mouth latch onto a pale, exposed neck. A sound caught in Killua’s throat that might have been a moan, but he tilted his head up to let Gon have more access.

 

“Killua.” The sound came slightly muffled as Gon spoke his name against the pulse beating wildly under his skin.

 

“Ha— what?” Killua inquired breathlessly.

 

“Talk to me. _Talk_ , okay?” Gon murmured against his throat, punctuating each word with a brush of his lips.

 

 _Gon, Gon, Gon,_ Killua repeated the name like a mantra, not knowing whether he saying it out loud and not caring if he was. The only thing he knew was that he’d keep whispering it till his throat was raw.

 

“Killua.”

 

 

“Mmm?”

 

 

“Do y— do you still want me to leave?” Gon pulled back slightly, leaning his forehead against Killua’s, so close that Killua could taste his breath. His grip on Killua’s hips tightened ever so slightly in anticipation of the killing blow. Gon looked down before continuing.

 

“If you want me to leave, I’ll—“

 

“ _No_ ,” Killua said immediately, and he felt Gon let out a sigh of relief. Killua blinked, trying not to let gravity pull him down because if his lips brushed Gon’s again, he might not come up for air.

 

“Don’t ever leave,” Killua whispered again even though he knew Gon heard it the first time. He didn’t care, just didn’t want to lose Gon. “I don’t— I—“

 

Whatever he was about to say, Gon cut it off effectively by pressing his lips against Killua’s.

 

 

“Never.” Gon kissed the side of his mouth. “Wouldn’t. _Couldn’t_.”

 

 

“I don’t deserve you,” Killua gasped, tears running freely down flushed cheeks, earlier proclamations of avoiding emotions now forgotten.

 

“Didn’t I tell you not to make decisions for me?” Gon growled lowly in his throat, all the while dusting feather-light kisses against Killua’s jaw, cheek, and lips. Killua murmured something in assent; he didn’t think he could hold enough of the warmth in his chest, and it was already spilling sunshine in his veins.

 

Deserving or not, it was just plain fact that they were meant to stand by each other. Good things come in threes, and he and Gon were anything but. Maybe that was why they did everything together— _KilluaandGon. GonandKillua_.

 

Killua believed it. Would continue to, until his last breath.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Gon.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Mm?”
> 
>  
> 
> “You can put me down now.”


	10. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s rainy, and it’s cold, and what’s better than a Killugon fic? (Find answer at the bottom note)
> 
>  
> 
> a [song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=K0YEVNacmtw).

  
_Beep_

 

 

_“Killua, hi! I missed you!”_

 

The said white-haired boy cringed away a little from the phone, wincing as he brought it back to his ear. A faint flush was staring to creep up his neck— annoyingly, he still hadn’t gotten used to Gon’s signature greeting for their every phone call. Killua continued his leisurely walk, rustling plastic bags in hand, glancing at the side of the road occasionally.

 

“What is it, Gon?” Killua sighed, trying to sound exasperated but failing, a smile already working its way around the corners of his lips.

 

A pause, and then— _“I missed— I miss you so much.”_ Gon’s voice sounded low and breathy, and it was not doing wonders for Killua’s concentration.

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t answer my question, dumbass.” Killua shifted one of the bags to his other hand, grumbling embarrassedly, ignoring the wave of delight that coursed through his chest.

 

_“Is it wrong for me to want to call my boyf—“_

 

_“HNGHHAH!”_ Killua yelped, effectively cutting off the term Gon was about to use. A nearby cyclist nearly fell over in surprise, and quite a few passersby stopped to stare at him. Killua responded with a glare, not caring that his anger was misdirected. They dispersed like mist as the pale boy strode amidst them in hurried, flustered steps.

  
He could hear breathless laughter through the speaker, cutting through the profanity-ridden lecture he was giving Gon. Killua frowned.

 

“Went running again, did you?” Killua snorted. “You sound out of it.”

 

A pause ensued before Gon replied. _“Something like that,”_ Gon admitted, voice sounding faint. Killua shook his phone in annoyance, wondering what was wrong with the speaker.

 

“Dammit, I can’t hear you too well.” Killua peered at the phone’s ports with some difficulty, due to the quickly darkening skies. Too absorbed in his task, he hadn’t noticed how the sun was nearly out of sight. The last rays kissed the tops of the buildings, leaving lingering, golden traces in their stead, and bathed the rest of the quiet town in soft clashes of pink and orange.

 

_“They say the more you miss someone, the more deaf you become.”_ Gon’s cheeky grin was evident even when unseen.

 

“Deaf, _my ass_.” Killua’s retort came out softer than he intended it to be. It was irritating how Gon’s teasing made his heart pool in a mess around his feet. Peals of amused laughter bubbled through the speaker, but it sounded somewhat even fainter than before. A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by Gon’s ragged breathing.

 

  
_Ragged_ —

 

  
“Idiot, _where_ are you, exactly?” Killua watched idly in fascination as each exhale blew out wisps of smoke due to the temperature dropping rapidly.

 

_“Picked up some things on my way home,”_ Gon replied cheerfully.

 

“While you were supposed to be helping me with the groceries. Nice.” Killua deadpanned as he rustled the plastic bags for emphasis. A curious sound emitted from Gon’s side, but as much as Killua strained his ears, he couldn’t determine what the hell was causing it.

 

“Gon, _what_ are you _doing?_ “

 

 

“ _Nothing_.”

 

 

“Since when have you ever successfully lied to me, Freecss?”

 

 

“ _Killua_.”

 

 

“No, _you_ listen — don’t blame me when I finish that tray of chocolate chip cookies you like. That’s my reward for being the responsible one.”

 

 

“ _Killua_.”

 

 

“Not until you—“

 

 

“ _Killua_.”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“ _I miss you.”_

 

Three words cut off the torrent of threats. “You’ve already said that,” Killua muttered, trying not to sound too pleased. He wasn’t about to go easy on the bastard for leaving him to carry groceries alone. He heard the curious sound again. It actually sounded like—

 

“Gon, what are y— _are you still out running?_ ”

 

“ _No_ ,” came Gon’s too-fast reply.

 

“I get that you like staying fit, but exercising till you get sick is a stupid idea, even for you.”

 

“ _Hmm?_ ”

 

“I can hear you coughing no matter how much you try to hide it.” _Probably muffling it with his hand,_ Killua thought smugly. “Go home, Gon, I’ll be there in a few.”

 

“ _Okay!”_ Gon replied way too cheerfully. Killua sighed.

 

 

“ _Hey, Killua?_ ”

 

 

“Mm?”

 

 

“ _I love you, you know?_ ”

 

 

He had long gotten used to but never became unaffected by Gon’s straightforwardness. And Killua would have died right there and then rather than admit how Gon’s blunt, simple proclamation made his chest constrict in a good way. As it always did. He felt winded and breathless— it wasn’t fair.

 

“I know,” Killua said quietly, not wanting the sharp, winter winds to carry his words away, even though there wasn’t a soul in sight on the lamp-lit streets.

 

“I _love you,_ ” Gon repeated, as if he hadn’t said it before, hadn’t said it for the thousand times Killua failed to do so.

 

“I—“ Killua began, shivering slightly, from the cold or something else, he wasn’t sure.

 

“ _So much. It hurts_.” And the way Gon choked out the last word, almost a sob, made Killua’s throat tighten and the back of his eyes burn.

 

“You are such an idiot.” Which was Killua-speak for _I love you too_ , and Gon knew this. Killua blinked rapidly and bit his lip, because he’ll be _damned_ before underhanded sentiments get the better of him.

 

“ _But I’m your idiot_ ,” Gon protested, and Killua honestly wondered if Gon thought that was something to be proud of.

 

“Why are you being so _weird?_ ” Killua let out a sound that somewhere between a laugh and a frustrated sob.

 

“ _Because today’s_ —“ Gon’s answer was cut off by a crackling, static sound.

 

“What?” Killua persisted. “Gon, I think your phone’s broken.”

 

“ _Hmmm?_ ” Gon replied faintly, almost dreamily. Killua wasn’t having another word of this half-asleep conversation.

 

“Alright, that’s it— Freecss, you better get home before I do, because I’m locking the door.”

 

“ _Be good, Killua_.” Gon’s words made even less sense than they did earlier. Killua sighed in a mixture of exasperated fondness.

 

“Hell I will,” Killua grumbled. “I’m going now, okay? S’getting cold. Come home.” He murmured the last two words, letting them linger in the air. He could hear, rather than see, Gon’s smile as he replied with—

 

“ _See you._ ”

 

  
_Beep_

 

  
Killua shook his head, still smiling, as he continued to walk down an empty road under the watchful eye of the night sky.

 

  
~~~

 

  
Gon’s fingers, slick with blood, tried to grasp the phone better, but accidentally pressed the end button instead. He groaned and laid his head back on the cold, cold cement pavement. It was not a pleasant sensation. Then again, it was lucky he could still feel anything at this point.

 

He patted the front of his crimson-soaked shirt weakly, biting back a sharp gasp as his numb fingers ran over one of the numerous stab wounds, still fresh with the violence.

 

He knew he didn’t have much left.

 

Tawny eyes wandered over to where a bouquet of forget-me-nots laid flattened, petals scattered and half-frozen. He winced when he saw the bright blue color of the flowers — reminiscent of a certain someone’s eyes — were now stained and desecrated with the angry red of blood. A card lay not too far from the trashed bouquet, and though Gon couldn’t make out the words written on it, he knew them by heart, having practiced rubbing it in Killua’s face because he knew he’d forget.

 

_(“Happy Anniversary!”)_

 

Killua’s voice still rang in his ears from their last conversation, and Gon sighed contentedly. He felt warm. This was alright, wasn’t it? His limbs felt like trees, and his head was so _heavy_. So, so very heavy. Every movement took twice as much effort. But it felt right.

 

He stared at the remaining unsoiled blues, trying and failing not to see a pair of familiar eyes staring wonderingly back at him. _Beautiful_.

 

 

“Come home,” Killua had said, voice soft and breathless and everything good in this world.

 

 

_Come home_ — Numb fingers. Eyes fluttering shut.

 

  
_Come home_ — Pulse slowing down, readying itself for indefinite sleep.

 

 

  
Come home.

 

 

_But Killua,_ Gon had wanted to say.

 

  
_You are home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> answer: a goddamn sad Killugon fic. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I haven’t been updating as much— been busy with school stuff, unnecessary socializing, and existential crises.


	11. nights like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time they exited the warmth of the cafe, Gon already had a goal in mind—
> 
>  
> 
> He was going to hold Killua’s hand before the night ended, or die trying.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: AU, aged up, established Killugon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indulgent Killugon snow day! Since our country is so fooking hot right now. No song this time, folks— was too tired to listen to any.

 

Gon honestly wanted to focus on Killua’s commentary about the movie they had just seen, but it didn’t help that Killua was just so plain _attractive_ that everything he did lent an air of charm to it.

 

For example, when Killua breathed, Gon nearly drooled.

 

It also didn’t help that Killua’s mouth was curved to one side in a mischievous half-smile in a way that knocked the air out of Gon’s lungs, lips chapped and begging to be warmed up. It was distracting Gon.

  
Really, it had been distracting him for the past few hours they’d spent together.

 

 _I bet Killua tastes like sunshine,_ Gon thought (although he didn’t actually know how that would taste like— he’d only read it in overly sentimental literary works.) _Or chocolates. Yeah, that’s more likely._ Either way, both ideas had his stomach twisting into knots.

 

Or maybe it was just the way Killua looked under the first snow fall of December as they made their way to a cafe, illuminated by the soft light of street lamps— bundled adorably in an oversized coat, silver hair a rumpled mess, standing out against the stark black of the winter night, cheeks flushed from the sharp sting of the wind, hands amusingly pale and un-gloved (Killua had a thing against gloves— said they felt like his hands were being choked).

  
Gon was sure Killua’s thoughts about the film were interesting — there was that strange emotion that lit up behind brilliant, focused blue eyes — but was it wrong that the pale, scarred, and stretched skin on Killua’s knuckles captured Gon’s attention more?

 

_Yep, it was definitely wrong._

 

So why did Gon feel an overwhelming urge to hold that carefree, swinging hand and entwine thin, pale fingers with his?

 

Although Gon knew Killua would most likely avoid the touch— even after establishing their relationship, Killua was never one for physical affection due to the way he was brought up. The Zoldycks were a complete enigma, even to Gon; the only things he was certain about were that they were rich, ridiculously so, and that they raised their children in such an unusually stiff, professional way that it was almost questionable. Deemed to be the ‘prodigy’ out of their five siblings, it was ingrained in Killua’s mind to always be wary of anything and anyone; thanks to this, Gon was lucky if Killua initiated any form of affection first. Yet Gon firmly believed this did not make Killua any less of a person.

 

 _No, not less,_ Gon thought as he stared and listened to the music of Killua’s voice. _Never less._

 

 

“— you think, Gon?” Killua inquired breathlessly.

 

 

“Hnghh?” Gon replied intellectually.

 

 

This earned him a sharp flick on the forehead. “Ow,” Gon muttered, rubbing the afflicted area ruefully. Killua smirked, deftly withdrawing his fingers into an oversized pocket, which Gon noted with much regret. “S’what you get for zoning out. Hey, we’re here,” Killua pointed out as they came up to the steps of the entrance.

 

  
The cafe was warm, comfortably so, and Gon let out a contented sigh as they stepped inside.

 

  
The usually quiet, quaint place was now packed with people seeking refuge from the cold. He almost didn’t mind the bustle of too-noisy adolescent customers as they chattered mindlessly about who was doing what. Or who. He almost didn’t mind that the order was taking twice as long as it should have, and he almost didn’t mind that it was because the girl at the counter was flirting shamelessly with Killua, who was noticeably unresponsive (at least, Gon hoped he was).

 

  
Almost.

 

  
He knew he’d had the last straw when the girl’s fingers lingered deliberately on Killua’s palm as she gave him their due change.

 

  
In less than two minutes, Gon had successfully asked the teens to _please keep it a tad bit down,_ innocently commented about the counter-girl’s obvious motives, and wryly suggested that his and Killua’s orders be finished as they were in quite a hurry. _For our date,_ Gon emphasized politely to the girl, and he did all of it with such a charming, good-natured air that the said people could hardly take offense. Except Killua, who blushed a garish, cherry-red at the mention of the word _date_. He made no move to correct it though, Gon noticed happily.

  
Killua sighed with relief when the flustered girl started on their drinks. He turned to Gon, looking at him curiously. “How do you _always_ manage to do that?” Killua muttered in a tone of one filled with awed respect.

 

“I dunno, I guess people just really like me,” Gon shrugged, feigning nonchalance, all the while suppressing laughter.

 

“Or maybe the ghost of Christmas future messed up their minds and freaked the shit out of them so they’d be decent,” Killua snorted.

 

“That, and I’ve had practice,” Gon grinned.

 

Killua stared at him before not-so-subtly laughing into his sleeve, and the rare sound could’ve made Gon cry. Killua’s bare hand lay on the countertop, and Gon impulsively reached out to—

 

  
“One large cup of hot chocolate with peppermint and a large coffee, French vanilla.” Both cups were placed in front of them, and Killua reached for his, effectively cutting off Gon’s reverie. With some disappointment, he grabbed his order as well. Looking at Killua’s back, an idea was starting to formulate in Gon’s head. By the time they exited the warmth of the cafe, the tan boy already had a goal in mind—

 

 

He was going to hold Killua’s hand before the night ended, or die trying.

 

 

Though, given Killua’s profound dislike for physical affection, it seemed the latter was more likely.

 

 

“So, where to next?” Gon asked breathlessly as he ran to catch up with Killua’s pace.

 

 

“Oh, right— I was thinking of going to the pond to skate a bit, but there’s bound to be a lot of people there at this time.” Killua indicated to his watch, which read a quarter to nine.

 

 

“So we have time to kill?”

 

 

“Yeah, looks like it,” Killua shrugged, wiping at a chocolate stain near the corner of his mouth.

 

 

“Then,” Gon grinned, “I have a plan.”

 

 

“Is it a good one?”

 

 

“I have a plan.”

 

~~~

 

“This is a plan?” Killua muttered in disbelief as they perused one of the numerous bookshelves in the store. Gon had dragged Killua into a bookshop they’d frequented, and ordered him to wait while he bought him his gift.

  
“Hey, I was rushed,” Gon argued defensively. “Don’t you like it?” He put on his best slightly hurt tone, knowing it would disarm Killua effectively.

  
“I didn’t— I—“ Killua sputtered in an effort to placate Gon. “It’s— yeah, no. I like it,” He sighed admittedly, running his fingers down a paperback spine. Gon could feel the weight of Killua’s sideways glance. “You know, the whole point of getting someone a gift is that it’s supposed to be a surprise,” Killua pointed out.

 

  
“Yeah, but you already know that I’m getting you a book, so...” Gon waved a hand and trailed off, deep in thought, wondering which novel Killua would like best.

 

  
“Why’re you getting me a gift anyway?” Killua asked curiously.

 

“Because I like you very, very much, and I want to,” Gon said simply, as if there were no other reasons to. That shut Killua up fast.

 

“You can’t just say stuff like that, idiot,” Killua hissed embarrassedly.

 

“Can so, and I will,” Gon retorted, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

 

“Fine, but I’m not giving you any clues,” Killua grumbled.

 

“Go be adorable somewhere else, ‘m tryna focus here.” Gon waved a hand absentmindedly as Killua tripped over his words and flushed red. The pale boy sighed resignedly and stepped back, watching Gon pick out titles instead.

 

  
A comfortable silence fell between them, occasionally broken only by Killua flipping the pages of random books and Gon muttering aloud to himself.

  
“Ha— got it.” Gon grabbed a novel off the shelf and waved it in Killua’s face smugly. Killua tried to sneak a peek at the title but it was too soon tucked behind Gon’s back. “No looking till I buy it. C’mon, it’s almost ten.” He grabbed a protesting Killua by the sleeve and headed for the counter.

 

~~~

 

“Thanks!” Gon called out as they went out the door, the soft chime of the bell lingering. “Here,” he handed Killua the paper bag, who took it with great interest.

  
“Hmmm,” Killua hummed, hands moving of their own accord and opening the package, all the while looking suspiciously at Gon, who tried not to look too smug. Killua felt the smooth cover of the book and finally glanced down.

  
Killua squinted at the title and whistled appreciatively. “How’d you know I liked Murakami?”

  
The surprise and affection in his voice made Gon’s stomach do flips. “I _do_ pay attention when you read, yanno.” Gon rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and grinned.

  
“That’s— but I don’t have a gift for you,” Killua said softly, putting the book back in its bag. “And none of that cheesy shit where you tell me ‘Killua, you _are_ the gift’ or something.”

  
“Ah, there goes my plan,” Gon sighed dramatically. “Ow,” he gave in as Killua poked him in the ribs. As their laughter faded into the quiet of the night, Gon took note of how Killua kept blowing on his hands to warm them up. He moved closer as they walked, subtly bumping their knuckles together. Taking a deep breath, he brushed the inside of Killua’s wrist with his fingers. A minute gasp, so soft it was barely there, gave Gon much needed encouragement. But before he could so much as move a finger, Killua had stuffed his hands hastily in oversized pockets.

 

  
Killua wasn’t looking at him.

 

  
A thousand ways to apologize ran through Gon’s mind, but before he could say anything else, Killua once more pointed out—

 

  
“We’re here.”

 

~~~

 

After renting a pair of skates each and putting their stuff on a bench in a secluded area, they stood at the edge of the completely frozen-over pond, saying nothing.

  
Killua was right; around this time, there were fewer people than usual— gliding, pirouetting, or simply scuffling along the ice. It made for a peaceful sight, with the occasional breeze ruffling scarves and sending falling snowflakes in their direction. It was quiet. _They_ were quiet. He looked over to Killua, who was staring far away at seemingly nothing. Gon was afraid that his earlier mistake might’ve pushed Killua only farther away, so it was to his surprise and relief when the pale boy suddenly leapt forward, yelling—

 

“Last one on the ice has to buy hot chocolate!”

 

 _Oh, it is so on,_ Gon thought. “Cheat!” He yelled, tackling Killua, who had already laid foot on the ice and was laughing at Gon’s late reactions. The weight of Gon’s movement, doubled by gravity and acceleration, sent both of them toppling over on the surface of the pond. Laughing so hard he had to gasp for breath, Gon opened his eyes to find electric blue ones only a few centimeters away.

 

  
_Oh wait, I could kiss him,_ was Gon’s first thought.

 

 

 _Move away. Now_ — was his second.

 

 

Gon had somehow landed on top of him when they’d fallen over, and now his hands lay on either side of Killua’s head, propping him up while the rest of his body pressed flush against Killua’s. Mouth slightly open, with laughter dying in his throat, Killua could only stare helplessly up at Gon.

 

  
It took a while before either of them could speak, breaths mingling in their awkwardly close position.

 

 

“We should, uh—“

 

 

“Yeah, I— yeah.”

 

 

Gon carefully pushed himself off of Killua’s body and stood up, holding out a hand. Killua stared, started to reach out, but then thought better of it and stood up himself, albeit with some difficulty. Gon swallowed hard and tried not to let the disappointment and dismay show on his face, but he knew Killua would sense it anyway.

  
_He doesn’t really hate you— he hates the contact,_ Gon chided himself as they skated shakily around the pond.

 

At least, he hoped that was the case.

 

Gon heard a yelp, and then turned to see Killua flailing his arms in a windmill fashion. He tensed, arms raised, ready to catch Killua lest he fall, but the Zoldyck righted himself almost immediately. They stared at each other and broke out into the kind of laughter that eased unspoken heartaches.

 

  
“I thought I’d be better at this,” Killua grumbled, but Gon could hear the smile in his voice. They’d settled into a more relaxed manner, even occasionally brushing up against each other as they moved.

 

  
“Why?” Gon asked curiously.

 

  
“I dunno, ‘cause I do skateboarding? Whatever— _stop laughing, you dumbass_.” Killua contradicted his threat by laughing as he tried to poke Gon, who swiftly maneuvered out of range.

 

“But you’re laughing too!” Gon yelled as he dodged Killua’s fingers. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him.

 

“Who cares?” Killua yelled back, chasing the threads of Gon’s scarf that brushed his fingertips.

 

Breathless with sweet laughter and the weight of the night, Gon could only stare as Killua moved with a strange grace, impossibly within and out of reach at the same time, blue eyes bright and tender with a look that made Gon’s chest tighten. He couldn’t talk; only wondered if it was possible for every day to become nights like this.

 

 

On nights like this, all he could think about was how to make the smile on Killua’s face stay.

 

 

On nights like this, he didn’t mind that Killua was out of reach. Gon didn’t mind, especially when Killua deliberately ran his fingertips along the fabric of his sleeve— the barest of bare touches. Even that was unusual for him.

 

 

But on nights like this, maybe Killua didn’t mind too.

 

  
~~~

 

  
By the time they returned the worn out skates, the area was already deserted. They collected their stuff from the bench and stepped out on the pavement. Not a breath stirred the lamp-lit streets, lightly covered with a dusting of snow. With tired feet and weary smiles, the two boys walked into the night.

 

  
“What time is it?” Gon yawned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

  
“Late enough. Or early.” Killua raised his wrist, watch glinting. It read sometime after midnight. Gon groaned and leaned against a nearby streetlight, pressing the back of his neck against the wonderfully cool metal. Killua smiled tiredly at the sight.

 

  
“C’mon, we have to get home,” Killua said softly.

 

 

“Too tired,” Gon complained.

 

 

“I’ll race you.” Killua tried not to laugh at the way Gon’s eyes lit up. It was comical, honestly, how Gon could never back down from a fight.

 

 

“I’ll beat you this time,” Gon stated matter-of-factly as he took his place — stumbled, actually — beside Killua, the prospect of a challenge sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Ready?”

 

 

“Wait,” Killua said, “I have a better idea.”

 

 

“What?” Gon tilted his head to the side.

 

 

“ _This_ ,” Killua breathed, and with slightly trembling fingers, reached out to

 

  
_grasp_

 

_Gon’s_

 

_hand._

 

 

If Gon was any less tired, he would’ve reeled back in shock. As it was, he only stared and noticed how their hands looked _right_ entwined together. It wasn’t a magically perfect fit like how movies and books described it, what with Gon’s hands gloved and Killua’s fingers naturally longer and tapered, but it felt _right_.

 

 

It felt like home.

 

 

“What?” Killua looked away, a flush starting to creep up his neck.

 

 

“Nothing,” Gon grinned. Killua gave a knowing smile in response and leaned in close, his breath ghosting Gon’s cheek.

 

 

“Then let’s _run_ ,” Killua said, feet already moving.

 

 

And so Gon did, blindly following the warmth of a hand pulling him forward, going faster and faster, till the noise and colors blurred into one, till he wasn’t sure if he was seeing streetlights or stars.

 

 

Killua stumbled.

 

 

Gon laughed.

 

 

The stars looked on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompts are accepted! If u wish, u may send them to my email: benitato@yahoo.com 
> 
> Leave a name if u want a dedication and be acknowledged:—) cheers!


	12. so say good night, our first goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone’s sick.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: AU, established Killugon, aged up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I— yeah, this is kinda dialogue-heavy, and I apologize if it’s messy, since I badly wanted to write Killugon but then stuff happened soooo I took it out on them. 
> 
>  
> 
> [a song I don’t particularly like but hey I used the lyrics for the title](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6hUpkPHlJb0).

 

“What do you mean I’m not allowed to see him?” Gon’s voice is loud and conspicuous, not unlike himself. It is out of place and disturbs the unwanted silence. His tightly clenched fists shake in rage or fear or more likely, both.

 

“Exactly what it entails, sir— the Zoldycks have not included you in the visitors’ list.” The receptionist is visibly shaken, unsettled by Gon’s persistence and inhumane stubbornness.

 

“But I’m his—“

 

“His _what?_ ” A drawl comes from around the corner, and Illumi is suddenly there, all pasty skin and serpentine, ink-black hair that swayed in sync with his strange grace.

 

Gon growls low in his throat. Illumi merely smiles and tilts his head. The receptionist tries not to watch.

 

“I’m his— his—“ but words seem to fail Gon this time as he grasps for them desperately.

 

_His what—_

Images of Killua flash through Gon’s mind— _Killua, flicking his forehead whenever he did something stupid but amusing. Killua, nudging Gon’s foot with his own if he was bored. Killua, absentmindedly reaching out to hold his hand. Killua, leaning in too close, breath ghosting Gon’s lips, so Gon leans in too as well. Killua, and the feel of his bared, pale skin and the taste of his mouth. Killua, smiling at him out of sheer joy at being together, tenderness evident in electric-blue eyes._

 

“His _best friend_.” Gon finally, bitterly, spits out the words as if they were profanity, right in Illumi’s face.

 

“And what good is being that when you can’t even save him?” Illumi sneers, not missing a beat.

 

The color drains from Gon’s face and cold seeps into his bones at the implication of this monster’s words. “Killua— I—“ Gon croaks, throat tightening, “He’s—?” But his mouth refuses to complete the question.

 

“No.” Seemingly coming from nowhere, Silva Zoldyck now stands beside his eldest offspring, and really, the similarities are either nonexistent or barely there. Illumi’s frame is tall, slender yet lean, exuding a quiet aura of impending peril that Gon is all too familiar with. By contrast, Silva’s presence is powerful, commandeering attention even when standing still. He dwarfs Illumi in size and authority. With blinding white locks and wary blue eyes, Gon thinks he resembles Killua the most out of his five children. In fact, perhaps the only similarity Silva shares with the eldest Zoldyck child is the cold, blank, calculating look in his blue eyes. Gon thinks it’s wrong, that such an expression should not ever be present in eyes that look so much like Killua’s that it _hurts_.

 

  
Then Silva steps forward.

 

  
He looms over Gon like the arbiter that he is, and Gon feels the weight of his gaze, feels the judgement settling heavily in his bones.

  
“No,” Silva repeats, his voice rumbling and sonorous with its decisiveness. _It is thunder,_ Gon thinks. “My son is not what you presume he is.”

  
And with that statement, Gon’s trapped breaths are freed and he nearly keels over in inexplicable relief. He thinks there can be no better words strung together in the world until Silva speaks yet again—

 

  
“He wishes to see you.”

 

  
This time, it is Illumi who is discomfited— if one could call it that. Merely a crack in the perfectly immobile facade of a face, but Gon is satisfied to have witnessed it. Illumi immediately regains his composure, expectedly.

  
“Father, what use will his presence be?” Illumi asks coldly, drawing out every syllable from each word for emphasis as he swivels slowly to face the elder Zoldyck.

  
“Killua has asked for him,” Silva says simply, in a tone that left no room for arguments, but of course that does not faze Illumi.

 

“Yes, but he can’t possibly help Kil—“ Illumi protests.

 

 

“And we cannot either.”

 

  
The words seem to drain Silva of a will to keep standing, for as soon as he utters them, he _stumbles_. Just the slightest giving in of his knees, a faltering that is hardly visible, but Gon sees it. Gon sees it, and the shock barely registers as he leans against a wall to keep from kneeling. The unmovable giant of a man has crumbled, and Gon cannot help but fall, too.

  
_Surely,_ Gon thinks, _surely this man — who Killua has talked about with such respect, almost mythical in his greatness — has found a way to defy the laws of whatever it is that drags Killua down and down and down until one day no one will be able to reach him._ But one hard, cold look into Silva Zoldyck’s eyes, and Gon realizes that myths stay myths.

  
“Is Killua—“ Gon’s voice breaks and so does the sentence, leaving it to hang in the air. Wordless as he is, his own tawny eyes dare not stray away from electric blue ones that carry a grief so deep it hurt to look at directly. The answer is in the way the blue eyes break off the stare, lowering instead to the floor. The grief resonates within Gon, and his mind spirals.

 

_If even his father couldn’t do anything—_

 

Gon closes his eyes and hits the wall with his fist once, twice. _Hard_.

 

 _No,_ a voice says in his mind, _it’s because his father couldn’t do anything, all the more you it’s up to you to save Killua._

 

Gon opens his eyes and refocuses on the two figures in front of him. He looks up at Silva.

 

“Where is he?” Gon asks quietly, almost in a whisper.

 

Silva looks up as well. He studies Gon for a moment before finally uttering—

 

— “147.“

 

“Father, I—“ Illumi begins, but he stops on cue when Silva raises a large, bear-like hand.

 

“You and I have a meeting to attend. Our presence is imperative.” Silva turns back to Gon, nodding at him in acknowledgment.

 

“You should go,” Killua’s father commands, “He—“ Silva pauses, “Before he—“

 

“No,” Gon cuts in. He raises his chin defiantly, “Killua isn’t going to die.” He gives himself a mental pat on the back for not breaking down at the last word. Silva only looks at him, unblinking.

  
He’s done it now; he’s probably offended Silva so much, his right to visit Killua would be revoked. But he’ll find a way to see Killua. He has to. Silva steps forward once more, and Gon braces himself. To his surprise, the next words that the large man speaks are not for him, but rather, directed at the receptionist.

 

“Let him visit the boy.”

 

A murmur of assent from the receptionist. Illumi turns away in disapproval he does not bother to hide.

  
Still in a state of shock, Gon barely manages a bow to Killua’s father before turning to sprint towards the stairs. Elevators, he decides, would be too slow. Just as he had taken a few steps, he suddenly hears—

 

“Gon.”

 

He turns around, surprised at the direct address. Silva stares at him, arms crossed, wearing his pride like an armor— but his eyes will Gon to understand the words he could not bring himself to utter.

 

 _Save him,_ the piercing blue eyes seem to say.

 

 

Gon nods.

 

 

And he runs like hell is behind him.

 

 

_Tap  tap  tap—_

 

Each step echoes impossibly loud, bouncing off of the spotless white tiles.

 

_Tap  tap  tap—_

 

Each step accounts for the number of seconds he is astray from electric blue eyes and a perpetual, amused half-smile.

 

_Tap  tap  tap—_

 

It is the erratic beating of his heart as it screams out the three syllables of a name he’d whisper till his throat went raw:

 

_Kil—lu—a Kil—lu—a Kil—lu—a_

 

Gon stops. He looks up to make sure the number is correct— 147. The door is similar to a dozen others adjacent to it. The only difference is that his whole world is behind this one.

  
He grasps the handle — cold, unforgiving metal — and slowly turns it.

 

He steps into the room.

 

The interior is all pristine, white, and shiny _everything_. The soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor fills the room. There is barely a hint of any other colors, save for the bouquet of flowers on a table. Upon closer inspection, with much amusement, Gon sees a card that reads—

  
_“Get better soon, brat.”_

  
and

_  
“We’ll be visiting soon; I hope Leorio’s poor choice of words does not cause further damage to your current state.”_

_  
From: Leorio and Kurapika_

  
From the floor to the ceiling to the complicated-looking mess of tubes attached to the boy on the bed, everything smells of new and unused and expensive.

  
And in the midst of it all is Killua.

  
He lays propped up by pillows, sheets draped over the lower half of his body, the blinding white only serving to emphasize his paleness. Long and tapered fingers twitch every now and then, as if dancing to a tune Gon could not hear. Even though the room is cold enough to send goosebumps breaking out on Gon’s skin, sweat pastes strands of Killua’s silver, messy hair to his forehead, curling at the nape of his neck.

  
Killua’s eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against painfully prominent cheekbones, but as soon as he hears footsteps, they open almost reluctantly. Given the color-draining this environment seemed to have undergone, Gon had thought that even Killua’s irises would have lost their luster, but the pale boy’s gaze is as sharp and bright and deadly as ever. Electric blue eyes widen in pleasant surprise when they land on the visitor, and it sends Gon’s heart plummeting helplessly.

  
“Killua?” Gon chokes out heartache. He loses it when Killua tilts his head, and with a grin, beckons Gon over with a finger.

  
Not for the last time today, Gon trips over his own feet in his haste. He practically jumps on Killua, but at the last minute, restrains himself and settles for burying his face in the warm crook of Killua’s shoulder. Killua is burning up, feverish. Gon grasps Killua’s hand so tightly it makes the pale boy wince. He murmurs an apology as he kisses each scarred, bone-white knuckle.

  
“I missed you,” Killua says quietly, weakly. “I wasn’t sure if my father would’ve let you in.”

 

  
“Your dad loves me,” Gon laughs into pale skin on Killua’s throat.

 

  
“Yeah, right,” Killua snorts. “He can adopt you when I’m gone.”

 

  
Gon freezes and pulls away to stare in shock. “That’s not even remotely funny, Killua,” Gon’s voice and hands tremble in anger, and Killua immediately regrets the distasteful joke. “How could you— that’s—“

  
Killua cuts him off by pressing his lips to Gon’s briefly. “M’sorry, shouldn’t have said that,” Killua sighs after pulling away, eyes lowered guiltily. Gon blinks in surprise.

  
“Yeah, sure, but a surprise kiss isn’t going to work next time,” Gon mutters. Killua ignores this in favor of loosely wrapping his arms around Gon’s middle. Gon doesn’t fail to notice how slurred Killua’s movements are, lacking their usual grace and fluidity— Killua moves as if each limb were weighed down. Gon knows it’s wrong, and that it’s only the sickness taking effect on Killua’s body, but he finds the clumsiness endearing.

  
“Do you think there’s going to be a ‘next time’?” Killua suddenly whispers, and the question breaks Gon.

 

“I know it,” Gon whispers back resolutely.

 

“Gon—“

 

“Killua, I—“

 

“Gon, _listen_ —“ Killua musters all the strength he can, which isn’t much, and pushes Gon slightly away. Hurt and confused, the tan boy complies.

  
“Gon,” Killua continues, eyes locked onto his, willing him to understand, “The treatments aren’t working. There haven’t been any news of upcoming ones.”

 

“Then I can research for you!” Gon eagerly protests. “I’ll ask around, and—“

 

“Gon, don’t you think if there was, we would’ve already bought it out of hiding?” Killua laughs tonelessly.

 

“But your father—“

 

“My _father_ ,” Killua sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “wouldn’t let the most probable heir to the family business _die_.”

 

“Then so will I,” Gon says defiantly.

 

“I said _wouldn’t_ , Gon— not _couldn’t_ or _can’t_. Because even my father’s already given up.”

 

“Killua—“

 

“Gon, _I’m dying_.”

 

Gon doesn’t even realize tears are streaming freely down his cheeks until Killua moves to dry them with the back of his hand. Again, Gon can’t help but notice how delayed the action is, as if it cost a lot of effort just to reach up. Gon absentmindedly reaches up too, to keep Killua’s hand pressed against his cheek, leaning into the touch.

  
“I just don’t understand why you want to give up,” Gon says softly, in the tone of a defeated man.

  
“I didn’t give up, Gon— I fought it. For Alluka. For you. Because I knew I still could. And now there’s nothing left to fight against.”

 

“I can find an alternative medicine for you, if you would just let me—“

 

“ _I don’t want an alternative!,_ ” Killua unintentionally shouts, and the effort makes his head spin and his vision resort to jagged pieces of Gon and white sheets and ceilings. He falls forward against Gon, who catches him unfailingly with steady arms and a whispered ‘ _are you alright?_ ’.

 

“No, I want—“ Killua gasps in uneven, ragged breaths, “What I want, is to be with you. For— for as long as we can, and for as long as I am able. Gon, you— you look at me.”

  
Gon complies. Killua continues, back to gripping Gon’s hand hard enough to leave bruises.

 

“If you love me, you’ll stay. No more looking for a way out.” Killua stares defiantly into wide, tawny eyes, daring them to show refusal.

 

Gon is quiet, terrifyingly so; no words or protests come out. And at times like these, it scares Killua more than he would care to admit. So it is to the Zoldyck’s disbelief when Gon lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping in resignation.

 

“How long?” Gon asks, more tired than Killua had ever seen him before.

 

“They say I have a month. Two, if I’m lucky.” Killua mentally prepares himself for the certain barrage of protests as Gon goes rigid. But he only moves to press his forehead against Killua’s, tawny eyes wildly roaming, saying nothing, as if attempting to memorize every detail of the ashen face.

  
“A month isn’t enough, I know,” Killua murmurs apologetically.

 

“ _Nothing_ will be enough,” Gon shakes his head.

 

“So we have to make it count,” Killua insists. The pained expression on Gon’s face is nothing compared to the fact that he could not even find the strength to protest anymore. It seems that their conversation has come to an end after a tense silence befalls them, with Gon idly rubbing circles on the back of Killua’s hand with his thumb, when Gon suddenly speaks—

 

“Then,” Gon says slowly, “I guess we’ll have to buy out all the Chocorobos at the nearest grocery store.”

 

Killua tilts his head, not sure if he is hearing right.

 

“And of course, we’ll have to fit all of our planned pranks on Leorio and Kurapika in one month. Pretty tight schedule, but we’ll make do.”

 

A hesitant smile starts to spread on Killua’s face as he catches on. “Yeah, we gotta annoy the old man and his wife more than ever.”

 

“Mmm.” Gon nuzzles his face into Killua’s throat, lips brushing skin every time he spoke, inducing not-so-quiet sounds from the pale boy. “Do you think they’ll let you out so you could teach me to skateboard? But you’re a terrible teacher, though.”

 

“I— ah, could teach the hell out of you, asshole,” Killua trembles, trying not to show how affected he is by Gon’s mouth moving in sync with the unraveling of his insides.

 

“And your insults are getting bad. We need to find you better comebacks.”

 

“Fight me,” Killua mutters out of habit. His fingers lightly trace a map on Gon’s back.

 

“I would, but I like you.” Gon shrugs and sighs dramatically. “Oh well.”

 

“Idiot,” Killua murmurs fondly.

 

 

“Hey, Killua?”

 

 

“Mmm?”

 

 

“If— when — you, well, _go_ ,” Gon swallows hard, “Will you give me a warning before you do?”

 

Killua shakes his head in amusement. _This kid, and the things he asks for._ “What, want me to go “3, 2, 1...”?” He joked.

 

“Well, yeah— if you can,” Gon quips, oblivious to the sarcasm.

 

Killua does not reply as Gon thought he would have. He can’t see Killua’s expression from his position; maybe he did something wrong.

 

“Hey.” Gon nudges him. Killua nudges back.

 

“Sleepy?” 

 

“No,” Killua mumbles. 

 

“Looks like it.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Gon’s breath hitches in surprise, and he buries his face further in the crook of Killua’s shoulder.

  
“Hey,” Gon whispers again.

 

“Yeah?” Killua says after a while.

 

“You hardly ever say that first.”

 

“What?”

 

“That you love me, too.” Gon’s bluntness usually makes Killua squirm embarrassedly, but now he just smiles tiredly.

 

“Oh, well— there’s a first time for everything,” and Killua trembles slightly against him. Was that laughter?

 

“There’ll be lots of firsts.” Gon promises and prays and wishes into Killua’s skin. He holds Killua tighter, closer, and Killua’s hands on his back go—

 

_slack?_

_Must’ve fallen asleep,_ Gon thinks fondly. _Should I wake him up? But he’s tired._ An alarm beeps from some unseen source. Was it already time for Killua’s medication?

 

“Killua, I think you have to take your pills now.” Gon pulls back, and Killua’s arms fall limply into place at his sides. The alarm beeps louder, persistent and demanding attention. _It’s a wonder, really, how Killua can manage to stay asleep through that racket._

 

“How do you turn that thing off? It’s not exactly a pleasant sound to wake up to,” Gon laughs nervously, but there is something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Hey, Killua?” Gon presses a hand against a pale cheek. It is not as feverish as before. _Was that good? That was good, wasn’t it?_

 

The alarm turns into a siren, wailing and unrelenting. And with a terrible, sinking feeling, Gon knows it’s not a reminder for medication. _It’s coming from the heart monitor,_ he realizes.

 

“Killua.” He doesn’t dare look at the machine. Instead, with trembling fingers, Gon reaches up to press them against Killua’s pulse

 

  
_and_

 

_he_

 

_freezes_

 

 

at what he finds there.

 

 

Or rather, what he _doesn’t_ find.

 

 _No_ , Gon thinks, shakes his head, because this is too much. It is too abrupt, too sudden— therefore, it cannot be true.

 

 _No_ , he whispers as he hears the door open, and figures in white gowns and surgical masks come flooding in like the tide. But Gon’s body doesn’t feel like his anymore; it is as if he is watching the scene from a viewpoint far away.

  
_But they said you had a month. Perhaps even more._

 

 _No_ , he protests as he is pushed none-too-gently out of the room, and _what are you doing look it’s a mistake there’s something wrong with your machine I mean Killua should be awake by now._ But no one heeds attention. Everything is a blur of raised voices and wailing machines and a lot of yelling. He thinks he may have been part of that last one.

  
_You said you’d warn me._

 

 _Killua?_ He asks in disbelief as he stands outside the room. He manages to catch a last glimpse of silver hair and unmoving pale hands just before the door swings shut.

 

_3_

_2_

_1_

 

And Gon finally _breaks_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Room 147 >>> Episode 147. Anybody notice that? c:


	13. a series of unfortunate events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set during the annual New Year’s Eve party for the entire Hunter Association over the years. Because really, what could possibly be more fun than:
> 
> 1\. Drunk Leorio  
> 2\. Killua trying to get drunk  
> 3\. Kurapika showing potential as a wingman  
> 4\. A painfully oblivious Gon  
> 5\. Pining! One-sided Killugon (or is it?)
> 
> Bonus: subtle hints of Leopika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it extra long and juicy for you, my children. Feast to your heart’s content.
> 
> Also, no copyright infringement intended. I chose that title for the chapter because it really does depict that. (Sorry, Lemony Snicket.) 
> 
> The [song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zVVMO4dvGtM) for this oneshot is in Tagalog, my native language, and the video in the link contains an English translation of the lyrics, which is equally pretty and I think fits well with the theme of the story.

 

  
**December 31, 2014  
11:23 pm**

  
“I’m not drunk. Noooope,” Leorio slurred, face-down on the table. Around his head littered half a dozen champagne glasses, contrary to his protests.

  
“Yeah? Then what color is this?” Killua pointed to the delicate gray linen covering their table.

  
Leorio paused and frowned thoughtfully for a minute. “Daaark,” he said finally. “Dark white.” He grinned proudly around at them before burping.

  
Gon elbowed Killua, muffling his snickers by stuffing a fist in his mouth. Killua didn’t bother; he cackled so loudly he was sure Bisky would’ve been proud.

  
“I don’t see why you have to encourage him when he’s already obviously inebriated,” Kurapika sighed. “And you two— _why_ were you even allowed in here? Fifteen is too young an age to be around drunkards.” Kurapika spared a distasteful glance at Leorio, still half-splayed on their table.

  
“I’ve been in worse company than that old man,” Killua snorted. “I’ve lived with _my family._ ” Pale fingers circled the rim of one of the numerous fluted glasses Leorio had been drinking out of. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol— one of his least favorite ingested poisons. Killua knew nobody here at the Hunter Association would mind two underage boys drinking — hell, that would actually be the least illegal thing they’d have done — but the thought didn’t appeal much to him. Apparently, it didn’t appeal to Gon either; Killua got a glimpse of him, now bouncing from table to table trying to find their acquaintances— annoying, strangely endearing, and sober.

  
Kurapika laughed, to Killua’s mild surprise. “You do have quite a point,” the Kurta said thoughtfully. “But do keep an eye on Leorio— you know he tends to want to engage anyone who makes eye contact with him in hand-to-hand combat when he’s like this.”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Killua waved a hand absently, craning his neck to look around for Gon, who had suddenly disappeared from view. _Just to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble,_ he told himself.

  
“I still don’t understand why they have to get intoxicated enough to be incapacitated,” Kurapika frowned, propping his chin on one hand.

  
“It’s not a New Year’s party without half the Association getting drunk,” Killua shrugged. Realizing that looking for Gon in a crowd of almost five hundred people would be pointless, Killua slumped down in his seat with a sigh. The sweet, high trill of a violin solo soared across the ridiculously grand hall.

  
“Melody’s playing.” Kurapika smiled a little wistfully at the small, gray, swaying figure on the stage, caught up in her own music. Killua would’ve made fun of the Kurta’s maudlin expression were he not entranced with the whimsical playing as well. It seemed like they weren’t the only ones mesmerized by the solo; the chatter in the hall had died out almost instantly, leaving a respectful silence in its stead. The notes sounded almost ethereal, like it didn’t belong in their painfully mundane world. So it annoyed him to no end when he felt the sudden appearance of a spiky-haired nuisance at his elbow.

  
“So that’s what a Music Hunter can do,” Gon whistled appreciatively as he stared at Melody.

  
Killua only grunted in agreement, still a little pissed off at the fact that Gon had caught him off guard enough to surprise him. He was prepared this time when he saw Gon out of the corner of his eye leaning in close to say something, but that didn’t stop the shivers that ran down his spine when he felt Gon’s hair brush against his cheek.

 

  
_“Scoot over,”_ Gon said under his breath.

 

  
_“Why?”_ Killua hissed back, also not wanting to disrupt the spell Melody wove with her playing.

  
Gon pointed to Leorio, who had appropriated not only Gon’s seat in lying down, but half of Kurapika’s as well. The furious Kurta kept trying to shove their inebriated friend off of his lap with little success.

  
Muttering choice profanity, Killua conceded by moving the tiniest bit so Gon could barely squeeze in. This was useless, of course, as Gon simply wriggled in their shared chair with his brute strength, pushing Killua nearer the edge until he was seated comfortably.

  
The ex-assassin tried not to look flustered, but it was rather difficult since he was just so aware of the way the entire half of Gon’s body felt pressed up against him. Killua didn’t get why he was so bewildered at the closeness and the contact; he and Gon touched all the time— sparring, food fights, thighs brushing against each other whenever they sat down for meals. So why did this feel different?

  
Was it because of the formal attire? Killua actually pondered this. Everyone was supposed to adhere to the dress code, and he was pretty surprised that Gon even had something like this in his closet. Presumably due to Mito-san’s foresight, somehow knowing he’d need to wear such clothes someday.

 

  
Gon needed to wear such clothes _more often._

 

  
Gon’s dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, suit jacket entirely forgotten and misplaced, tie loosened and hanging low. Gon never could keep still long enough, so the stiff clothes weren’t his favorite. This was the second time he’d seen Gon in a suit, the first being in the auction at Yorknew. Nothing new. But for every second his gaze lingered on his friend, heat seemed to pulsate from under his skin with a longing for something he didn’t entirely understand.

  
_Whoops_ , mouthed Gon innocently as he made himself more comfortable in their seat. Killua flicked him on the forehead. Gon mumbled an _‘ow’_ before nudging Killua’s foot in retaliation.

  
It wasn’t that the touches were different, Killua realized. It was that he himself had changed. Quite a lot.

  
Gon leaned forward, still watching the performance, elbow propped up on Killua’s thigh. Killua folded his arms on top of Gon’s back, resting his chin there.

  
They stayed that way until Melody wrung her bow for the last few times, standing still as the ending notes rang out, and then gave a deep bow. The applause was instantaneous, with a few whistles thrown in. After a few seconds, the comfortable buzz of chatter resumed. Gon leaned back and away from Killua, stretching his arms above his head.

  
“That was awesome!” Gon exclaimed in delight. “I mean, I don’t know much about music, but that was great!”

  
“It certainly was.” Kurapika smiled fondly while simultaneously kicking the back of Leorio’s chair, effectively waking him from his drunk stupor. Killua had to admire that kind of multitasking.

  
The soft chatter that filled the hall suddenly rose in volume. Killua looked around instinctively for any trouble, but then again, who’d be stupid enough to attack the world’s most dangerous people all gathered in one place?

  
Killua could now make out words amongst the noise. The words were chanted in unison almost eerily. Well, not words, but rather—

 

 

_“20, 19, 18...”_

 

 

“It’s just the New Year annual countdown,” Gon nudged Killua with a laugh. “Haven’t you done it before?”

 

  
“The _what?_ ” Killua stared.

 

  
“Exactly one minute before New Year’s, everyone counts down to midnight,” Gon explained patiently.

 

 

_“15, 14, 13...”_

 

 

“Yeah, but what it’s _for?_ ” Killua asked.

 

  
“For _fun_ ,” Gon stated as if it were supposed to be obvious.

 

  
“Well, no wonder my family doesn’t do it,” Killua snorted. “So what do I get at midnight? A pot of gold? Three wishes?”

 

  
“A _kiss_ ,” Gon grinned mischievously. “At least, that’s what I know.”

 

  
Suddenly dry mouthed, Killua would ultimately deny that his pulse started racing right there and then.

 

 

_“10, 9, 8...”_

 

 

“That is,” Gon continued, “if you wanted to kiss someone, or if someone wanted to do it to you.”

 

  
_If I wanted to...?_ Killua thought.

 

  
“But you don’t want to kiss someone, do you? ‘Cause if you did, I’m sure you’d tell me first!” Gon proudly thumped his chest, confident in the fact that Killua was his best friend and no untold secrets or filters were or would ever be present.

 

  
“Right, Killua?” Gon repeated eagerly.

 

  
“Y-yeah,” Killua stuttered a little too late.

 

 

_“5, 4, 3...”_

 

Killua stared. And stared. And stared. His body felt the urge, felt the need to do something _reckless_ and _impulsive_. Like lean forward and closer to his best friend.

 

 

_“2, 1... Happy New Year’s!”_

 

But before anyone could react, Leorio promptly reached over to plant a wet, unwanted, sloppy kiss on Kurapika’s cheek.

  
The effect was, expectedly, catastrophic.

  
Gon whooped and jumped out of their chair. Kurapika was now pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Leorio laid in a dazed heap on the floor from Kurapika’s too-fast retaliatory punch. Killua blinked, nodded in approval at the Kurta’s impressive reflexes, and thanked the heavens for Leorio’s idiocy which had stopped him from doing... whatever it was. It wasn’t important.

  
Killua let out a reluctant cheer as Gon grabbed his elbow and pointed out where Leorio still lay unconscious. As he was dragged to the crime scene, he felt dizzy and lightheaded and warm.

  
No doubt that whatever this feeling was, it was guaranteed to be trouble. Killua never backed out of a fight he couldn’t win, but he could tell this time that he was going to lose before it had even begun.

 

 

**December 31, 2015  
11:47 pm**

 

  
“I love you.”

 

 

“Leorio.”

 

 

“No, really, I have never felt like this, would you believe it?”

 

 

“Leorio, _please_ —“

 

 

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll—“

 

 

“Leorio _fucking_ Paladiknight, sit the _fuck_ down, and _stop sexually harassing the wall_.” Kurapika face was buried in his palms, insults muffled but still sharp. Every table within their radius was now staring at the doctor plastered against the wall. Some of the Hunters were snapping pictures.

  
“Saying ‘bad words’ is hardly a good example for innocent children such as yours truly,” Killua did a flourishing mock-bow.

  
“You are neither of those things. And it’s not proper etiquette for a Hunter to be flirting with building foundation, I don’t care how drunk he is,” Kurapika shot back coolly.

  
“You must really be pissed off,” Killua laughed outright. “On the bright side, at least it’s not you he’s harassing this time.”

  
“I’m pissed off too!” Leorio hiccuped happily, still embracing the wall and was now attempting to make out with it.

  
“That’s a different kind of pissed off, grandpa!” Killua yelled back gleefully as Leorio staggered his way back to their table. Kurapika shook his head and crossed his arms.

  
“Where’s G—“ Leorio burped as he sat, or rather, stumbled to his seat, “Green boy?”

 

  
“Gon?” Kurapika raised an eyebrow at Killua.

 

  
“Yeah, that. Him. Have to keep an eye. Onhim.” Leorio slurred dutifully.

 

  
“Gone.” Killua looked down and shrugged.

 

  
“That’s what I said!” Leorio sniffed irritably. “Where’s he?”

 

  
“Gone.” Killua repeated, trying to keep a straight face.

 

  
“You’re drunk,” Leorio pointed accusingly before passing out on the table once more.

  
Killua snorted and sipped a little of the champagne in his hand, making a face at the taste. _Still disgusting,_ he thought.

  
“When is Gon coming back? I hardly think Ging will be keeping track of the time,” Kurapika looked over at Killua, gray eyes narrowing, as if he knew how the ex-assassin’s heart did a double take at the mention of his best friend.

  
“Not sure,” Killua shrugged casually under Kurapika’s sharp gaze. “The last letter he sent said he’ll be back around this time next year, if not earlier. That is, hopefully, if Ging hasn’t killed him off accidentally by then,” he smirked as an afterthought.

  
“You miss him,” Kurapika stated simply. It wasn’t a question, Killua realized.

  
“Well, I hang out with him all the time, and now he’s not here,” Killua said offhandedly, letting the implication settle rather than say it out loud, but he felt heat creeping up his neck and to his face in contrast to his words. He wasn’t kidding, though; all the time meant _all the time._ Training together, completing missions as partners, hunting down latent criminals. That didn’t even include the time they’d spent doing absolutely, blissfully, nothing— lying on the ground side by side, arms unconsciously pressed against each other, lazily pointing out clouds that looked like perverse shapes. Mostly on Killua’s part.

  
“Sounds like you two have grown closer now. If that was even possible,” Kurapika observed.

  
_Closer?_ Killua thought of the fleeting glances he knew Gon gave him when he wasn’t looking, knew it because he did the same thing when Gon was too distracted to pay attention. He thought of how their limbs were seemingly constantly touching, more so than ever, as if drawn to each other— unintentional grazing fingertips, soft nudges of feet, rough shoves. He thought of stares across the room that lasted a second too long.

  
But those didn’t mean anything. Shouldn’t mean anything. Because if they did, Gon would have said something by now, and he wasn’t exactly good at being subtle. Most likely, Gon wasn’t even aware of the implication of his actions, still treading the fine line between innocence and ignorance. So as far as Killua was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary.

  
“Yeah, I guess,” Killua finally answered.

 

  
“Hmm.” Kurapika nodded and looked away, but Killua suspected he had at least an inkling of the conflicted emotions boiling a storm in his chest.

 

  
_“10, 9, 8...”_

 

Killua glanced down at his watch. He half-smiled, remembering last year, and looked around. Same party, same people, same food and refreshments.

  
_No Gon._

  
He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. So what? Lots of Hunters were probably absent tonight. It only made a difference because Gon was his best friend. But the nagging feeling that something was missing begged to differ.

 

  
No, not something.

 

 

Some _one_.

 

 

_“3, 2, 1... Happy New Year’s!”_

 

 

Kurapika had assumed a defensive stance, seated as far away as he could from Leorio, but thankfully the doctor was still passed out peacefully on the table. Killua remained seated, trying to find answers in the bubbling, gold, alcoholic drink in his hand.

  
Killua suddenly felt a hand at his shoulder. He looked up to see Kurapika patting him there while putting on his jacket, previously draped over a chair. He had half a mind to shrug off the hand, but he decided not to. “I’m going. Do something about it, will you?” Kurapika sighed.

  
“About what? The old geezer?” Killua gestured to Leorio, who was drooling on the tablecloth.

  
“No.” Kurapika looked back, smiled, and disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.

  
“I don’t know what you mean,” Killua called out, back to staring at his glass. But he _did_ know.

 

  
And apparently, Kurapika did too.

 

  
He was _so fucked_.

 

 

**December 31, 2016  
11:36 pm**

 

  
“Stop staring, or you’ll accidentally kill them,” Kurapika said pleasantly, not looking up from his book.

  
Killua tore his eyes away from the sickening scene to glare at him.

  
“Mmm? Hngwhah?” Leorio inquired with a mouthful of shrimp. At least, it looked like seafood. Killua didn’t really want to find out.

  
“Not planning on getting drunk this year, gramps?” Killua dodged the question with his own as he drained his glass. He really did hate the taste, but he could use the inebriating effects tonight. He wondered how many glasses of wine he needed to get properly drunk.

  
“Nah,” Leorio grinned cheerfully, “I’m getting too old for this. Though you look like you need a drink, brat.”

  
In lieu of a response, Killua took the half-full bottle of wine and chugged it in one go, not breaking eye contact all the while.

  
“Damn scary teenagers,” Leorio shuddered, turning to grab more shrimp. “Not smart, Killua,” Kurapika commented as he flipped a page.

  
Killua set the bottle down none-too-gently. “Yeah,” he grunted, “I miscalculated— six and a half bottles weren’t enough to get me plastered.”

 

  
“I meant there were other ways to deal with it,” Kurapika replied patiently.

 

  
“Is that so?” Killua hummed uninterestedly.

 

  
“Yes. You could, for example, stop looking at Gon and that girl,” Kurapika suggested.

 

  
“Wasn’t looking,” Killua muttered, then promptly went back to staring at Gon and the girl. Kurapika was right, by all means. But no matter how much he tried, his eyes kept getting drawn to what was going on at the other side of the table, like a terrible car crash you can’t look away from even though you’re aware that you don’t want to see it.

  
Long, gold-spun curls swayed enchantingly with every movement, thick lashes brushed high cheekbones with each bat of her heavy-lidded turquoise eyes, and the elegant, red, figure-hugging dress she donned didn’t hurt. With poreless, perfect, porcelain skin, she looked like a doll. A doll that was sitting so close to Gon it had practically appropriated his seat and nearly his lap.

  
Dolls were breakable, weren’t they? Especially ones deliberately skimming their delicate fingers along Gon’s forearm.

 

  
Killua took a large swig from another bottle.

 

  
“Remind me again how she got to sit here, looking all ready to eat Gon’s face?” Killua muttered to Kurapika, who closed his book with a sigh.

  
“Crude as ever. You wouldn’t be asking this if only you hadn’t arrived late, you know. And you sound impossibly affected— why is that?”

  
“Ugh, never mind— don’t tell me,” Killua grumbled, knowing full well that Kurapika _knew_.

  
“Met Gon during his trip with Ging. I think she helped them with paperwork of some sort. Accompanied them for a while, I heard,” Kurapika continued anyway.

 

  
“Young for a Hunter,” Killua commented flatly.

 

  
“So are you,” Kurapika said quietly.

 

  
“And she’s here at our table because—?”

 

  
“She supposedly found the festive aura around here enticing.” The Kurta looked over at Leorio entertaining the two at the other side of the table, animatedly talking and waving his hands around.

  
“You sure it wasn’t Gon’s face she found enticing?” Killua sighed, completely neglecting his glass and drinking directly from the bottle instead.

 

  
“Well...” Kurapika shrugged.

 

  
“That was rhetorical,” Killua deadpanned.

 

  
“I know,” Kurapika laughed gently. He again looked over at Leorio, who was now waving a piece of shrimp around for some kind of demonstration.

  
“He’s actually not terrible when he isn’t drunk,” Killua half-smiled as he followed Kurapika’s gaze. “Not that I’d ever say it to his face.”

  
“Mmm.” Kurapika merely hummed.

  
Killua could have sworn he saw a fond smile cross Kurapika’s face before it turned into mild exasperation as the shrimp flew across the room and on the head of a large, burly Hunter. The whole table exploded into laughter with the exception of Kurapika, who headed to the other table in an attempt to resort to diplomacy. Leorio looked around, rubbing his elbow in surprise before glaring suspiciously at Killua, who smiled innocently and raised a bottle in acknowledgement.

  
“Poor shrimp. Something must’ve shocked ol’ Leorio,” a voice mused near Killua’s ear. Killua didn’t have to turn to know who’d stolen Kurapika’s seat. Willing his stomach to stop doing somersaults, he took a deep breath before answering.

 

  
“ _‘Shocked’._ Interesting choice of words,” Killua scoffed, keeping his eyes fixated on the floor.

 

  
“Hey, it was just an observation,” Gon grinned, playfully nudging Killua’s foot with his own. “Leorio must’ve seen something... _electrifying_.”

 

  
“Really? What could’ve possibly given you that idea?” Killua lifted a hand carelessly, letting blue sparks dance and wrap around his fingers.

 

  
“What indeed,” Gon murmured thoughtfully, playing along. “Maybe it was because I saw you taser him with _nen?_ ”

 

  
“Fuck off.” Killua reluctantly smiled.

 

 

“ _Language_.” Gon frowned, mock-aghast.

 

 

“Fuck off, _please?_ ” Killua shrugged.

 

 

“I missed you.” The funny thing was, Killua wasn’t the only one who looked shocked; Gon’s eyes widened slightly as he processed the words that came out of his own mouth. He grinned sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. “I mean it, yanno? Ging wasn’t exactly great company, especially with him picking a fight every half hour with anyone. Sometimes _anything_.” Gon laughed, but the sound was a bit off.

  
“Well,” Killua drawled after taking another swig, “You looked like you enjoyed the trip. Even brought home a lovely souvenir.“ He smiled sarcastically.

  
“What souvenir?” Gon’s brow furrowed.

  
“Hmm? Oh, I think it went to get more refreshments,” Killua pointed in the direction of the banquet tables helpfully. He knew he was being a jerk for no rational reason, but somehow he couldn’t help it— perhaps he wasn’t completely intolerant to alcohol after all. Seven bottles of wine tended to do that.

  
“Oh— You mean her? You think I—“ Gon looked down, and for a hopeful second Killua thought he saw a pained expression cross his face, but it just as quickly vanished. “She’s not— I mean, we’re—“

  
“Whatever it is that you two are, I’m not interested in knowing.” Killua tipped the bottle all the way up, taking in every last drop. His surroundings were dangerously blurred at the edges, and a weird noise was filling his head. Maybe eight bottles was his limit.

  
Gon stiffened visibly. Killua expected him to retort but he only got a—

 

“I think if you meet her, you’d—“

 

 

“No,” Killua rasped, head suddenly spinning. “Don’t make me— don’t—“

 

 

“I’m not making you do anything! I just thought maybe if you guys—“

 

 

“Can you let me be _fucking selfish for tonight?_ ” Killua gritted his teeth, “Please.” They stared at each other, chests heaving, each feeling like the months they’d spent without the other were now suddenly making themselves painfully obvious.

  
“But you don’t understand, Killua—“

 

 

“You’re right, I don’t.”

 

  
Bewildered, Gon ran his hands through his disastrously spiky hair. He stayed quiet thoughtfully for a few seconds before asking—

 

  
“Remember what I told you a few years ago?”

 

  
Killua must’ve stared at him as if he’d sprouted wings because Gon hurriedly leaned forward and continued— “When you asked me what you get at midnight on New Year’s eve, and I told you?”

 

  
_A kiss_ , Killua immediately thought. “No, I don’t think I remember,” he lied smoothly.

 

  
Gon stared at him hard, willing him to understand. “Then maybe you should stop drinking that stuff.”

 

  
“Maybe you should make me,” Killua whispered back, slightly swaying. The whole room seemed to dance before his eyes, and he reached for the table to be steadied, only to find himself grasping strong arms and breathing into a too-close face.

 

  
“Maybe... maybe we should move.”

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

  
Neither of them made a move to let go.

 

  
Gon was so close that Killua could count each individual freckle along the bridge of his nose, like sunspots on warm skin.

 

  
“You’re such a bad liar, Killua,” Gon murmured, tawny eyes roaming the face opposite his.

 

  
“Shut up,” Killua whispered back, leaning forward even more.

  
Killua realized that the constant buzzing that filled his head was the sound of more than a hundred people counting down at the same time.

 

_“10, 9, 8...”_

 

Killua felt Gon’s eyes finally land on his own mouth, and he shuddered. Gon licked his lips nervously.

 

  
“You could move, you know? If you wanted.” Killua swallowed hard, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

 

  
“Yeah,” Gon said distractedly. _“If I wanted.”_

 

  
Killua stared at him in disbelief.

 

  
_Fine— that’s it,_ Killua thought, and leaned forward, closing his eyes as he sensed Gon move—

 

  
_away?_

 

  
Feeling Gon’s arms slip from beneath his grasp, Killua opened his eyes to see their owner being pulled up from his seat by delicate hands.

 

  
Delicate, doll-like hands.

 

  
Killua watched as those hands drew Gon close. Watched them tuck stray golden strands of hair behind a perfectly formed ear. Watched as Gon sent a desperate glance at him. He knew he should’ve stopped her, or at least Gon should have, but both were too frozen to do anything more than stare helplessly.

 

 

_“3, 2, 1... Happy New Year’s!”_

 

 

And Killua watched as Gon was pulled into a kiss that was meant for him to give.

  
The room erupted into chatter, clinking glasses, and cheers.

  
And something inside Killua _snapped_.

 

 

**December 31, 2017  
11:35 pm**

 

  
This was perfect.

  
The view from the roof was nothing special, overlooking festive, noisy streets, although Killua had to admit that the lights scattered as far as the eyes could see looked pretty. Buildings rose in the distance as ominous shadows, though none towered the Hunter Association’s. He rubbed his arms through his suit jacket; the thin, expensive cloth did little to keep the sharp, winter gales from biting into his skin. He was used to the cold, of course, but it felt good to rub some warmth back into his body.

  
This year, he’d decided, he was sitting out the party. Literally. Legs dangling, Killua sat on the ledge of the building wide enough to serve its purpose comfortably. Of course, he could’ve just stayed in his hotel room, but Knuckle had spread word that there was going to be a chocolate exhibit as a special treat during this year’s New Year’s Eve celebration, and no way was he missing it.

 

Gon or no Gon.

 

Avoiding his best friend proved to be an easy task once he had told said best friend to fuck off.

  
Gon had approached him that night during last year’s party, not a few minutes after the incident, but after spitting out those two words, Killua promptly raced out of the building at the speed of lightning.

  
Handy, his _nen_ was.

  
After being told to fuck off, Gon did just that for the rest of the year— which surprised and disappointed Killua more than anything since doing what he was told wasn’t exactly Gon’s strongest suite. He’d been counting on some sort of forced encounter staged by Gon, or being coerced into a proper conversation, but the months passed by quietly. Killua didn’t think he would actually stay away. The one time he didn’t want Gon to follow an order, and Gon did exactly that. The ex-assassin didn’t appreciate the irony.

  
And he missed his best friend.

  
But no point in going down there now to see him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gon attended tonight. _Once you’ve told somebody to fuck off,_ Killua realized, _you have to face the consequences._ So he was staying here until midnight.

  
Getting out of Kurapika and Leorio’s clutches and up at the rooftop was easy enough once the two’d started chatting. Sober, surprisingly. As for the chocolate, he’d just sneak back inside once only a few stragglers were left.

  
_For once,_ he thought, _a foolproof plan._

  
He wasn’t planning on getting drunk— to avoid unwanted impulsive actions, he brought no alcoholic beverages this time. Besides, being disoriented at last year’s party had given him enough of a scare. In lieu of entertainment, he let electric-blue currents dance along his fingertips, watching them jump from one hand to the other. The blood in his veins sang with untapped power. The crackle of electricity and the smell of ozone comforted him strangely.

  
From where he sat, his fine-tuned ears picked up the soft swells of a violin solo. Melody? Probably. He hadn’t heard her play in what— 2, 3 years? But there was no mistaking the distinct sound of her playing. It reminded him of their first party a few years ago. But back then, he had his comrades around the table, and his best friend at his side. Now he had nothing but concrete, dust, and lightning.

  
Idly, Killua let the currents spread more, veining out and taking up the spaces greedily until they covered the area above the building. He raised his hands above his head, and electric-blue and purple and white clashed in a violent dance. The intervals of bright flashes resembled strobe lights. The electricity ran in his bloodstreams now, feeding off of adrenaline.

  
_He missed this._

  
Sparks flew off and landed as golden embers before dying out like the sun giving in to the dark of the night. He glanced at them as they fell, and he lowered his palms, putting an end to the brief light show. Breathing hard and leaning back on his hands, Killua studied the fiery hue of the embers which had landed by his side, reminiscent of a particular shade of eyes.

  
He was almost too distracted to feel the presence that had revealed itself. _Almost_. Muscles tensing, Killua whipped back around, facing the front of the building once more.

 

  
And it was his to immense surprise to find those very eyes staring back at him.

 

 

Gon had one hand on the ledge, the other swinging carefree, and two feet planted firmly on the side of the building. In that position, Killua couldn’t help but think that he looked like some sort of primitive ape— black hair tousled every which way, dress shirt stained with something that looked suspiciously like chocolate, blazer nowhere to be seen, tie stuffed hastily in his back pocket. It must’ve been _freezing_ , but the tan boy didn’t seem bothered at the very least. Killua opened his mouth to insult Gon, or even berate him for what they’d both been put through for almost eleven months, but instead—

 

  
“How the _fuck_ did you climb up here that fast?”

 

  
Gon blinked and laughed hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to or not. “I climbed the World Tree in 20 minutes, and Ging called me _slow_.”

 

  
“Of course, your batshit-crazy dad would’ve climbed it in ten.”

 

  
“Five, actually. And can I sit down now? My arm’s starting to get tired.”

 

  
Killua shrugged. Gon swung himself up on the ledge and sat down with a sigh. “S’not easy climbing buildings. Not too many footholds.”

 

  
“Well, no one told you to climb it, _dumbass_.” Killua found it almost eerie, the way they’d settled so quickly to how they used to be.

 

  
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to go inside, then I saw your lightning, and I had to.” Gon looked down.

 

  
“Couldn’t you have used the stairs?” Killua asked in disbelief.

 

  
“Couldn’t you be more appreciative?” Gon shot back, more amused than indignant.

 

  
“And how’d you know it was my lightning? For all you know, it could’ve been a trap.”

 

  
“I just knew, okay?” Gon crossed his arms and glared, looking very much like his twelve-year-old self.

 

  
“That’s not a reason!” Killua threw up his hands in exasperation.

 

  
After a few seconds of glaring, Gon surprisingly looked away, but not before Killua saw him hide what suspiciously looked like a grin. And for some god forsaken reason, maybe due to the surreality of the situation, Killua laughed out bitterly as well, shaking his head.

  
He turned to Gon to give him the most profanity-ridden lecture of a lifetime, but the harsh words died on his tongue as soon as he met the intensity of Gon’s stare. They looked at each other silently for a few moments, neither one willing to break the silence.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gon finally took the initiative to speak first. “You know I’m sorry, right?”

 

 

Killua opened and close his mouth a few times, as if his sentences were yet to be formed. “I—“ he began, but Gon cut him off.

 

 

“You don’t have to forgive me; you just have to know _I’m sorry._ ” Gon clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap.

 

 

“ _Idiot_ — you could’ve let me finish and tell you that I’m not mad,” Killua smiled sadly. “Not anymore. It’s your life. You can kiss whoever you want.”

 

 

“But I didn’t _want_ to kiss her,” Gon protested.

 

 

“But you _did_ — and like I said, it doesn’t really matter,” Killua sighed.

 

 

“So you didn’t mind?” Gon asked softly, as if he were prey staring down the barrel of a gun, waiting for the killing blow.

 

_Of course I did, you moron,_ he thought. _I avoided you for a whole year._

 

“Not at all,” Killua half-grinned as his chest twisted painfully with the lie. As they grew quiet, the streets grew louder, indicating the arrival of midnight. Confetti already littered the road, a few air horns blared out into the night.

 

“I thought— Well—“ Gon bit his lip.

 

 

“Thought what?” Killua raised an eyebrow, trying not to look as flustered as he felt.

 

 

“I thought you would’ve learned to lie better.” In an instant, the hesitant look on Gon’s face was replaced with a smirk. The _bastard_.

 

  
“You little _shit_ — I wasn’t lying!” Killua forcefully pushed Gon’s chest in a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. He wasn’t particularly worried about falling; both of them had survived worse falls. He’d be more worried about the state of the road.

 

  
“Killua, I’ve known you for almost five years— I think I’d know when my best friend was lying to me.”

 

 

“Oh yeah?” Killua spat out.

 

 

“Yeah,” Gon confirmed. “Your face does that weird thing where it looks like you’re trying to smile and glare at the same time.”

 

  
And for lack of a retort, and because what Gon said was right, Killua once more attempted to send the tan boy flying away, but strong, warm hands caught his own cold ones and held them there in place.

 

 

_“20, 19, 18...”_

 

 

The celebratory chants from below reached their ears, but all Killua could hear was the sound of his own pulse ringing as he and Gon stared each other down. Gon’s tawny eyes were intense and unwavering and burning, not unlike those times when he was dead-set on getting something he wanted. It was only more unsettling for Killua to realize that this time, he was the cause of that very look. He felt the fight drain out of him as Gon drew him closer.

  
Gon’s hands moved slowly, as if he were afraid of startling Killua, and made their way to cup both sides of a tense, pale jaw. They were so close now that he felt his bangs brush Gon’s forehead, noses nudging against each other. Killua gripped the collar of the other boy’s shirt tightly, feeling the fabric wrinkle in his hands. Gon’s lashes fluttered like butterflies as his eyes landed on Killua’s mouth. His head kept moving forward and pulling back minutely, like he couldn’t make up his mind.

 

 

_“10, 9, 8...”_

 

 

Killua, sensing his hesitation, swallowed hard. “You could move, you know—“

 

 

“— If I wanted?” Gon laughed gently, thumbs skimming Killua’s cheekbones.

 

 

“Yeah,” Killua whispered, cheeks flushing red at the memory of a similar conversation. Gon pulled back, and Killua stifled a small, needy sound at the loss of contact, but Gon only moved to stare wonderingly into unfocused blue eyes.

 

 

“Thing is,” Gon murmured, “I don’t want to move.” He kissed the corner of Killua’s trembling mouth.

 

 

“Not now.” Soft lips brushed against Killua’s with every word but it _still wasn’t enough._

 

 

“Not ev—“ Gon whispered resolutely, but by then Killua was already smashing his mouth against his, falling headlong into tawny eyes as wide as islands. Gon responded by feverishly kissing back, lips parting and tasting the warmth of Killua’s breath. Tan hands found themselves tangled in silver hair that curled at the nape of Killua’s neck. And Killua found himself enjoying the soft, small sounds stuck in Gon’s throat whenever he pulled back minutely and dove again with more fervor than before.

 

 

_“3, 2, 1... Happy New Year’s!”_

 

 

_Happy New Year’s indeed,_ Killua thought as he smiled against Gon’s mouth.

 

 

“ _Waited so long—_ “ Gon gasped as he pulled away briefly before kissing Killua again, “— _For this._ ”

 

  
Killua melted even more, as he actually groaned into the kiss. They broke apart reluctantly for air, chests heaving. Killua felt the night air grow colder, but Gon’s hands on his jaw and neck provided heat better than any warm clothing.

 

  
“I’d still like a pot of gold,” Killua laughed breathlessly. “Or at least three wishes.”

 

  
“Oh, I’ll grant one,” Gon grinned. “Are you still obsessed with chocolate?”

 

  
“I dunno, are you still slower than I am?” Killua retorted smugly.

 

  
Gon laughed and kissed his cheek. Killua’s mouth hung slightly open. “There’s still some left at the exhibit,” Gon stood up, brushing off dust from his pants, and held out a hand. “Race you to the hall?”

 

  
Killua readily accepted the hand and stood up as well. “As long as we’re using stairs this time. And _no cheating_.”

 

  
Instead of letting go, though, Gon pulled him in the direction of the exit and squeezed his hand tightly as they made their way down.

 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to post. Feel free to leave suggestions and constructive criticism, as I think my writing’s getting a bit rusty c: 
> 
> Cheers!


	14. throw pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua has a phone call, and Gon keeps trying to distract him.
> 
>  
> 
> setting: AU, aged up (eighteen-ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, this is the closest I’ll ever probably come to writing smut, because god— I’m just so bad at this. My face was literally red while typing this down, and I kept taking breaks. This was based on a prompt I saw on Tumblr. 
> 
> These boys are going to be the death of me.

_  
“Onii-chan, a chocolate bar isn’t a balanced meal!”_

 

“Is so.” Killua lazily picked up another square from the wrapper that lay on top of the coffee table. He grimaced as the melted sweets covered his fingers; he hastily popped it into his mouth, looking around for something to clean his hand with whilst simultaneously trying to keep the phone jammed between his shoulder and cheek. Both hands were now caked with melted deliciousness, and he couldn’t decide whether to just lick it all off or wipe them on his jeans.

  
“I got it!” A voice yelled from the kitchen and made its way to the living room. Killua let out a surprised grunt as something sturdy flung itself beside him, nearly overturning the sofa. A wad of tissues was thrust into his face.

  
“Here!” Gon waved the proffered item with more enthusiasm than was needed. Killua took it gratefully while indicating that Gon get the phone.

  
“Alluka wants to say ‘hi’.” Killua grinned at him while wiping off chocolate from his fingers.

  
“Hey! How are you? Is Palm there, too?” Gon’s smile was infectious and evident in his tone, and Killua could hear peals of delighted laughter from the other side of the phone. He laid his head on Gon’s shoulder and sighed quietly. An arm automatically went around Killua’s shoulder, fingers playing with and threading into tufts of white hair. The familiar sensation made his eyes flutter half-shut. His and Gon’s limbs felt like worn out pieces of a puzzle— fitting perfectly in some places while making do when it comes to others. This was one of the perfect times.

  
Sliced rays of sunlight filtered through the glass windows painted the living area in a cozy shade of mellow gold. Warmth crept into Killua’s bones and he curled up instinctively in its direction, closing his eyes. Soon, Killua was lulled into a sleepy haze. His heart beat to the rhythm of the resonating hum of Gon’s baritone and the comforting brush of fingertips against his temple.

  
Not later enough, Killua was stolen from his momentary stupor by gentle shaking.

 

  
“Hey.” More shaking. “Heeeey, Killua? I have to go take a bath now. Kinda hot in here.”

 

  
“Nnn. Stay.” Killua nuzzled into the crook of Gon’s shoulder, slinging an arm around his middle. With a fond laugh, Gon gently removed the arm and stood up. “I’ll be back. Alluka’s still on.” He pointed at the phone on the table. With precise, mastered movements, Gon pinched a square of chocolate and ate it before Killua could even retaliate. The pale boy hissed in annoyance. Still laughing, Gon kissed Killua’s cheek swiftly, and made haste to the bathroom.

  
Killua blinked dazedly, still enjoying the languor that could only be caused by a hot summer afternoon. He rubbed his eyes and stared out the window for what felt like a few minutes, still recovering from being woken so abruptly. The sky was a sea of infinite blue, broken only occasionally by wisps of smoke-like clouds. Below, colorful umbrellas made their way up and down the bustling street, their users hidden from the glare of the sun that glinted off of equally brightly colored roofs. Such a sight never failed to stir something in him; they’d spent less than a week in this apartment, but it was already starting to grow on him. A soft, hesitant voice made him jump before realizing it was just Alluka on the other line. Guiltily, he immediately picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

 

  
“M’sorry, fell asleep for a second there.”

 

  
Alluka giggled before taking on a reproachful tone. _“I told you watching a series till two in the morning was a terrible idea!”_

 

“Yeah, but—“

 

_“No ‘buts’! You have to sleep before midnight, or I’ll come and kick some sense into you.”_

  
The idea of his petite sister physically abusing him elicited a snort. But he grumbled consent anyway. “Yeah, yeah.”

  
_“I can feel you rolling your eyes from all the way here, onii-chan.”_

  
He was. “Whoops,” he grinned into the mouthpiece.

  
Another giggle from Alluka’s side. _“I really missed you two. What’s it like, living with Gon?”_

  
The question did not hide its context, no matter how innocently phrased it was, and Killua could hear the beginnings of a teasing tone in his sister’s voice. _What was it like, waking up with your best friend of four years every morning? What was it like, having to wake up in the middle of the night with warm arms hiding you away from your own thoughts? What was it like, making brownies in the kitchen at 3 am, while the rest of the city slept on?_

  
_Pretty damn awesome,_ Killua thought. Except for when Gon snored too loudly. Or when he left the milk carton to warm on the countertop.

  
“It’s alright, I guess. Not really that much different from when before we got you out of that place.” Killua’s answer left both of them in a quiet reverie. The memory of the incident in the Zoldyck manor, while unspoken, left a chill in the static, crackling air. Images of Alluka sitting alone in a dark, heavily curtained room were conjured up in his mind, and guilt wrenched his heart. Even though it’d already been a few years, Killua suspected he’d never really get over being too protective of his sister, even if he considered the fact that she was old enough to take care of herself. Which he didn’t. Everyone accounted it for a miracle when he agreed to let her go to boarding school and live with Palm, who was conveniently residing in the area.

 

  
“Though,” Killua attempted a tone that was a bit lighter, “It’s terrible cleaning up after the guy. And he’s not great at picking up groceries.”

 

  
“I’m gone for five minutes and you’re already badmouthing me to your sister? Shame.” A voice called out from the bathroom, accompanied by wet footsteps. “And here I was starting to like you.”

 

  
Alluka giggled and whispered conspiratorially. _“I think your boyfriend’s mad.”_

  
“Don’t call him _that!_ It’s weird,” Killua grumbled into the phone. Heat was starting to creep up his neck and he hated it. Killua rolled his eyes and turned in the direction of the complaint. “Well, Gon, if you’d just—“

  
His words died out as soon as he saw Gon walking out of the bathroom, hair still slightly wet and hanging down his forehead. Drawstring pants hung low on his slim hips, a towel carelessly slung around his neck. Gon wasn’t a hunk by all means— at eighteen, his body had grown well into leanness, well-sculpted but still thick enough to be muscular. Droplets shone on a toned chest and trickled down the grooves of defined muscles. _Of course_ he had to be shirtless.

 

 

_What the f—_

 

 

“What?” Gon raised an eyebrow, knowing all too well _what_. He raked a hand through his hair, forcibly taming the raven spikes, and Killua’s mouth hung open slightly.

  
Now, Killua wasn’t a prude, and he sure as hell had seen Gon without a shirt before, but for some god forsaken reason, the Gon in front of him right now was making his stomach do flips like a professional acrobat. Oh, _was_ Killua sorry he’d ever made fun of Gon eating like three people at once, because there wasn’t an inch of fat evident on the tan torso. It really wasn’t fair. If he’d been blushing before, now his face felt like it had been exposed to a furnace, a raging inferno in his bloodstreams taking over too-pale features. Killua was pretty sure even his toes were a blushing, garish red. He turned away quickly, stuttering into the phone and asking how Alluka’s school was, but he just knew that a huge, shit-eating grin was already on Gon’s face as he heard padded footsteps grow closer.

  
For the second time that morning, Killua was nearly sent flying as Gon threw his entire weight on him, wrapping still damp arms around his middle.

  
Killua let out a surprised yelp and glared at Gon, who winked as he pulled away as quickly as he’d come barraging on the sofa. He tried not to remember the feel of Gon’s lean body against him, how he’d _smelled_ —

 

oh, _shit_.

 

 _“What is it, Brother?”_ Alluka hummed curiously.

  
“Nothing. A stupid mosquito.” With one last pointed look at Gon, Killua turned away in the other direction, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat. “What were you saying about school?”

  
As Alluka happily recounted how enjoyable her classes were, he tried not to listen to Gon, who was humming what suspiciously sounded like a show tune. Killua put a hand to his burning face, attempting to cool it down. He was starting to feel less flustered after a few minutes, comfortably nodding along and reacting to all the right cues in Alluka’s reminiscing. But then he felt rough, calloused fingers trail up and down his left arm, waking a trail of goosebumps even over fabric as they moved lightly still.

  
“Killua. _Talk to me_.” Gon whispered as he tugged on the sleeve of Killua’s cotton sweater, persistent and endearingly annoying. Talking, really? With the way Gon _looked_ , if Killua did put down the phone — which he wouldn’t — there wouldn’t be any _talking_. They would be doing something much more _productive_ with their mouths. The tugs on the hem of his sleeve grew more impatient.

  
“ _Killua_ ,” Gon exhaled, a sense of urgency in his tone that made Killua turn suddenly.

  
“Why? Is something the matter? An emergency?” Concern masked Killua’s features as he frowned at Gon, trying to figure out what was wrong. He covered the mouthpiece, with Alluka still unknowingly chatting on the other end.

  
“Nope. I just miss you, is all.” Gon’s grin got impossibly even wider. Honestly, Killua believed he would’ve punched Gon had not the heat made him drowsy. He firmly refused to admit that the statement had anything to do with it. After a few mortifying, red-faced, sputtering moments, Killua collected himself.

  
“ _Put on a fucking shirt, Freecss_ ,” Killua hissed threateningly, before responding cheerfully in time on the phone to what extra language class he thought Alluka should take.

  
“Why? Are you _bothered?_ ” Gon whispered innocently, moving even closer, letting his fingertips graze a pale jawline. Mustering what was left of his self control, Killua swatted the hand away. Gon laughed quietly in response — Killua could feel the rumbling laughter shake the sofa — and retreated the offended limb. Lord have mercy on him, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to pay attention to Gon; he just couldn’t drop his sister’s call. She had a place in his weathered thing of a heart that rivaled one shirtless, tan boy.

 

  
“Hey.”

 

 

“Hey, _Killua_.”

 

 

“ _Hey_.”

  
At the whisper of his name, Killua slowly turned around to give Gon a _what-the-fuck-could-you-possibly-be-doing-now_ glare, his best one yet. The tan boy merely shrugged and grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously, as he held up the wrapper with a half-bar of chocolate still in it. Killua looked down at the candy and back up at Gon. He cupped the mouthpiece once more.

  
“Look, if this is your peace offering for trying to sexually harass me—“

 

Gon bit his lip, shaking with suppressed laughter. “I wasn’t—“

 

“And this doesn’t count since it was _mine_ in the first place—“

 

“Do you want it or not? ‘Cause I’m gonna eat this if you don’t.” Gon waved it in front of his face threateningly.

 

“How _dare_ you.” Despite his hushed, scandalized tone, Killua immediately snatched the half a bar of chocolate dangling within his reach. He bit into it greedily, suppressing a groan that would’ve proved nearly lewd and embarrassing. Alluka’s voice came through the receiver and he put it against his ear, careful not to stain it.

 

_  
“Onii-chan, can you wait a minute? Palm has a guest over and she’s not here yet, so I have to—“_

 

  
“Mmyeah, shrrr,” Killua tried to swallow with great difficulty, seeing as he’d stuffed his mouth with chocolate. “I’ll wait.”

 

  
_“Great! It’ll just take a few moments.”_

 

  
And Gon must’ve had ears like a bat, because as soon as Alluka dropped her phone with a clunk on some kind of surface, he promptly took Killua’s face in both of his hands and smashed their mouths together.

  
It was messy and delightful and exhilarating; noses bumped against each other, teeth clacked, tongues roamed for the sole purpose of _tasting_ and _devouring_. Killua had somehow ended up lying on his back on the sofa, with Gon’s arms braced around either side of his head, legs tangled in each other and hips moving together. The force of Gon’s mouth against his felt so good that he shut his eyes, as if trying to block out the pleasure or drown in it. His nails scratched down Gon’s bare back, and the tan boy arched with a groan. His other hand moved to explore the planes of Gon’s exposed chest— strong, contoured, and perpetually warm. Gon felt so _alive_ under his touch, brimming with joy and enthusiasm and sunlight.

  
“ _Quiet_ ,” Killua sighed as Gon mouthed his collarbone, “We gotta— gotta be— q— _oh_ —“ Even finishing a sentence was too much to ask of his brain, what with Gon’s lips — be they on or off of his body — driving him mad.

  
“Killua,” Gon groaned. Panting, he worked his way up, latching onto a pale throat, and then finally landing on a slightly swollen mouth. Another groan was elicited from him as he licked all the way deep inside Killua’s mouth. As he pulled back, he let go of Killua’s bottom lip between his teeth with a wet _snap!_

  
Both were flustered messes on the couch, sweating, chests heaving. Killua reached up and laid a palm on Gon’s torso, dragging it down slowly. He reveled in the small shudders Gon made as his fingers drew closer to the waistband of his pants.

 

  
“ _Killua_ ,” Gon moaned again. A warning.

 

  
“Y’know,” Killua whispered smugly, “If you’d just wanted some chocolate, you could’ve asked. Instead of taking it from my mouth.”

  
Gon shook his head, still breathing heavily. “It tastes better this way,” he exhaled. Electric blue eyes widened— Killua licked his lips nervously. Gon smirked, rolling his hips down deliberately against Killua’s, sending a shock through both of their bodies. And with that statement, Gon dove once more to recapture Killua’s lips—

 

  
_“Brother? I’m back! Are you still there?”_

 

  
With a curse, Killua pushed Gon’s chest back with both hands, steadying himself on the armrest as vertigo overtook his senses. Gon was breathing raggedly, clutching the back of the sofa for support, cheeks ruddy and eyes dark with want. He pressed himself flush against Killua, despite the latter’s weak protests, as if he couldn’t stand one second without touching him.

  
“Killua,” Gon nosed along the curve of his throat, inhaling every inch of him there. “I love you— love you like this. _Want_ you.”

  
The declaration had Killua’s stomach twisting into knots, and he bit back a sound as Gon pressed his mouth to a spot on his neck where his pulse beat the loudest.

  
“Gon,” Killua gritted his teeth, forcing the name to come out as less of a groan. “It’s barely noon.”

  
“So _what?_ ” Gon breathed into his skin, and Killua lost all of his retorts. Fine, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to succumb to this incomprehensible want— but if Gon didn’t stop _now_ , he wouldn’t last long.

  
“A—Alluka— First— Have to—“ Killua inhaled deeply and pointed at the phone lying face down on the table. He cleared his throat once more, and the words came out easier. “ _Later_.” The word burned with want and an unspoken promise as he stared into tawny eyes darkened gold with barely held back desire. Gon tilted his head, considering, and it scared Killua when he realized he didn’t know if he’d want to stop Gon if he decided not to leave all this for later. Thankfully, Gon’s eyes lightened as he studied Killua— a good sign.

  
“Yeah, okay.” Gon finally sighed and pressed his face to the side of Killua’s throat. Killua visibly relaxed in relief, but his insides were all twisted up in anticipation of the promise he hoped he could deliver. “But you have to behave while I’m talking to Alluka,” Killua reminded him, one corner of his mouth curving into a half-smirk. He grabbed the phone of off the table. “Not one sound out of you, Freecss.”

  
The look Gon gave him sent a shiver down his spine, igniting his bloodstreams with adrenaline. “Oh, I’ll be quiet,” Gon grinned darkly. “But can you?”

  
Killua could only glare as the receiver was placed back against his ear. _Try me,_ he mouthed back. The grin Gon gave made him rethink his challenge.

  
“I’m here, I’m here,” Killua smiled into the phone, hoping Alluka wouldn’t hear his slight panting from their earlier exertion.

 _  
“Do you know a Bee Ski?”_ Killua could envision Alluka frowning thoughtfully. _“She said she trained you and Gon for a while. She also said you went nuts whenever Gon was in danger.”_

  
Gon suppressed a snort. _Damn him and his supernatural hearing._ “Totally, completely untrue.” Killua coughed into his hand. “Totally. And her name’s Bisky Krueger.”

  
_“Oh, right!”_ Alluka laughed. _“Anyway, she’s Palm’s guest, and they’re talking right now.”_

  
Killua frowned. “What could Bisky possibly want from Palm?” He felt Gon humming contentedly into his skin, face still pressed against his throat.

 _  
“I don’t know yet,“_ Alluka admitted, _“But she kept asking whether or not you really got together with Gon, and in her opinion, Gon should’ve followed Ging instead. What’s a Ging?”_

  
“A hobo,” Killua replied quickly. “Tell Bisky I think she’s an old hag, and _oh f_ —“ With one hot, hard lick of the flat of his tongue to a pale, exposed throat, Gon effectively interrupted Killua before he could tell Alluka to tell Bisky where to stick her opinions into.

  
_“What?”_ Alluka asked concernedly. _“And I’m not going to say rude things to Palm’s guest, onii-chan.”_

  
“It’s— it’s just a— a nothing. Never mind.” Killua tried to keep his voice in check. He covered the mouthpiece again with the heel of his hand and turned to Gon.

  
“That was disgusting— you’re lucky you’re cute. But do that again, and _I will hit you_.” Killua whispered threateningly.

  
“You think I’m _cute?_ ” Gon whispered back, looking to be on the verge of laughter. Fast as lightning, Killua reached over and flicked Gon’s forehead with more force than necessary. _Ow_ , Gon mouthed as he rubbed the afflicted area ruefully.

  
Alluka hummed thoughtfully again. _“You’re acting weird— have you drank your coffee yet? You know seven cups—“_

  
“—Is the minimum for the caffeine to kick in, yes. And one cup for you.”

  
_“Yes!”_ Alluka agreed happily _. “Palm even lets me drink two.”_

  
“Mmm, not—not too much, alright?” The last word ended up as a sigh as Gon traced a pattern with his lips from the corner of Killua’s mouth to the soft spot under his ear.

  
_“Okay!”_ Alluka quipped cheerfully. _“Palm’s taking us out for lunch in a few minutes, I think I better go. Is that okay with you, Brother?_

  
“No, yeah, go ahead. I’ll— _ahh_ —“ Killua barely bit back a small gasp as Gon peppered kisses along his jawline. “I’ll— I’ll call you— call later.”

  
_“Alright,”_ Alluka giggled. _“You two can go back to whatever you were doing. Bye, Gon! Take care of Brother!” Alluka called out._

 

_Wait—_

 

“Bye!” Gon yelled back belatedly.

  
“Oi, Alluka, did you—“ Killua began, but was only met with a _click!_ as Alluka hung up. He stared at the phone for a few mortified seconds before looking up and hitting Gon on the arm.

  
“Ow.” Gon deadpanned before laughing outright. “That didn’t even hurt at all!”

  
“Wasn’t trying. Anyway, I think she _heard us._ ” Killua groaned and rubbed his face with a hand.

  
“You mean she heard _you_ ,” Gon corrected him smugly as he took pale fingers in his, pulling their owner closer until their bodies were a dime apart.

  
“Shut up.” Despite himself, a grudging smile was beginning to form on Killua’s face as Gon rested a hand against his jaw, drawing their faces closer. Killua turned his face instinctively into the warmth of the palm. Gon shivered as he felt the press of Killua’s lips there. He pressed their foreheads together, almost as an afterthought.

  
“Think I win this round, Killua,” Gon murmured against his lips, their shared breathing intoxicating. Snorting, Killua pushed Gon off of him, and — in a flash — shrugged off his sweater and threw it on the floor. Smirking at the way tawny eyes widened at him, Killua took advantage of the moment and pinned Gon down against the threadbare couch with one hand on his chest, using both knees to press down on Gon’s thighs, preventing any movement.

  
The wonder in Gon’s eyes darkened to a _hunger_ fueled by want of touch. His chest rose and fell with speed, needy for anything Killua was willing to give. He reached out to run his fingers along the finely shaped, jutting bones along Killua’s torso, but pale hands, surprisingly strong, pinned them on either side of his head.

  
“I think,” Killua whispered, leaning down so his bare chest pressed against Gon’s, inducing a grunt from the boy beneath him, “I wouldn’t declare myself winner just yet.”

 

  
“That’s— That’s really playing dirty, Killua,” Gon panted, but his complaint came out more of a breathy sigh. “You’ll pay for this.”

 

  
“Yeah?” Killua’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

 

  
“Yeah.” Gon grinned, disheveled, despite his disadvantage of a position, looking up at Killua with such burning intensity it had the heat in his stomach tightening.

 

  
“Then,” Killua licked his bottom lip deliberately, moving down even closer, “ _Make me_.”

 

  
Gon made a small groan and lifting up his head to Killua’s, with little difficulty despite the fact that his wrists were still restrained beside him. Tawny eyes burnt gold searched electric blue ones, satisfied with the same hunger they found there.

 

  
“Remember that you asked,” Gon breathed before finally capturing Killua’s lips in a heated, frenzied kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! It’ll help me determine and decide if I should, um, pursue this kind of writing. 
> 
> Smut. I mean steamy stuff. Yes.


	15. self deprecation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua’s thoughts during when Pitou was healing Komugi. Forgot the exact episode wherein Gon basically implied for him to eff off, but oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killua badly needs rant time, okay? 
> 
>  
> 
> [song in the drabble](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cDBlqu6KF4k)

  
_"Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts"_

_— Green Day_

 

  
_you have it so easy Killua,  
since you don't seem to care_

 

  
It took Killua a few seconds to register the accusation because surely,  _surely,_  Gon wouldn't dare say it. Not to Killua, of all people.

  
But he did, and shock overpowered the hurt that stemmed from Gon's words.

 

  
_Take it back you bastard_

 

  
He came to NGL because Gon asked him to. (Or would've— he might as well have). Not to fight for a futile cause, not for Kite, but for Gon. Always.

 

  
_Not fair_

 

  
Sure, Ging's son might've met Kite earlier, but other than that they practically spent the same amount of time with him; so what, pray tell, was Kite to Gon? The father figure he never had?

 

  
_You had no right_

 

  
— _to say those words,_ Killua thought. The words Killua wanted to never hear again, wanted to disprove so badly, came from the person he least expected it to.

 

  
_Unfeeling_  
_Inhuman_  
 _Machinery  
Brutal_

 

  
Various other synonyms ran through Killua's head. He didn't even realize when he'd started walking; if he moved fast enough, perhaps he could escape Gon's words, and perhaps that could make them untrue.

 

  
_I care I care I care_

 

  
If Gon honestly thought Killua didn't grieve over Kite, then what else differentiated Killua from the Chimera Ants? At least the Ants lamented the death of their own kind— did Gon think Killua was beneath this emotion?

 

It made him so angry. But it was useless to be angry at Gon right now — a Gon blinded and broken by rage.

 

  
_Was the amount of time you spent with Kite enough to justify that rage?_

_  
Would you have done the same for_

 

  
"—me?" Killua choked out his thoughts; couldn't keep them in. His chest heaved, and he gasped for oxygen.

 

_  
Or do I just clean up the trail of brokenness you leave behind_

 

  
He realized he didn't want to know the answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Killua stood at the edge of the crater, looking down at the blood red monstrosity that was the third Royal Guard.

 

  
"Sorry, nothing personal,” Killua said calmly, walking down the almost vertical landscape with apparent ease, body shrouded with pulsing electricity. Sparks danced between his fingers.

 

  
"What's about to happen is me just letting off some steam."

 

  
As he lunged at Youpi, Killua realized that this may very well be the death of him.

 

 

But what did he care? After all, he had it easy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this isn’t very self-indulgent, but when I was writing this, I felt like it was an issue that had to be tackled at that time. 
> 
> See u next week, hopefully w/ fluff instead of angst! (Depends on whether I get enough coffee.)


	16. i found love where it wasn’t supposed to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua gets dragged to a party. It isn’t as bad as he expected. 
> 
> Setting: AU, college characters
> 
>  
> 
> Is it a meet cute? Maybe.
> 
> Also, prepare for subtle Leopika. God, I love those two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sike. (Psyche??) Idk how that’s spelled, actually. Even tried Googling it. Anyways, it just means... 
> 
>  
> 
> HA. _This_ is the real update. The previous one I uploaded was just drabble. I accidentally posted this a bit earlier than intended so I deleted it immediately, but here u go. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy, lovely people.
> 
>  
> 
> Title of the chapter was taken from [this song which I terribly love.](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA)

 

_What he had gotten himself into, Killua didn’t know._

 

  
“I hate you so much.”

 

 

“Mmm.”

 

 

Killua scowled, crushing and un-crushing a red plastic cup in one hand, its contents having been poured out earlier on the floor. The dog that had been at his feet all night whined softly. Killua reached down to scratch behind its ears, wondering where the hell its owner was and why they’d allow it to be stuck inside with the earsplitting, terrible music. “Same here,” he muttered to the canine.

  
“Did you hear me?” Killua said in between the head scratching, still not looking up. “I hate you.”

  
“I know.” Leorio sipped on his own cup, eyes darting around the room as he looked for potential girls to take out tonight, Killua suspected. “But I smuggled you Chocorobos last week. Which, might I emphasize, is _against the building rules._ You owe me, brat.”

  
“You’re a pretty shitty roommate, you know?” Killua sighed and leaned back, thumping his head back against the hollow drywall. The dog nosed against his pocket in agreement.

  
“Not my fault our landlady’s got a stick up her—“

 

  
“And you had me come here with you— why, again?” Killua interrupted.

 

  
Leorio looked at him incredulously. “No one goes to a party alone. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the guy, and he rarely throws parties like this, so I kinda have to.”

  
“You call _this_ a party?” Killua looked around in disgust. They’d ducked into a shadowed, empty hallway with a view of the entire living room— streamers and confetti littered the furniture, people grinding on anyone and anything, pop music blasted through oversized speakers, pounding and wild. Honestly, the passed-out drunkards were the least eyesore things in the scene. Here, at least, the music was less loud, and they were able to converse without having to yell.

  
“This might be a formal party, but it kinda looks like dressing in formal attire doesn’t stop the raging hormones,” Killua looked on in disgust at a couple making out on the stairs, the girl’s sequined dress catching and reflecting the lights. “Scratch that— I’m not calling this a formal party. It doesn’t deserve that.”

 

  
“Come on, Rich Kid— not everyone’s been to a gala like you have,” Leorio wiped at his mouth with the back of his forearm.

 

  
“Not rich,” Killua replied instantly out of habit.

 

  
“No, you’re not,” Leorio agreed. “You just live in a mansion and probably use dollar bills as toilet paper.” He glanced at Killua, who winced a little despite his perpetual glare. “Sorry,” Leorio said quickly. “Anyway, he and his teammates are celebrating. Not everyday our basketball team beats the rival school.”

  
“Must be pretty popular then,” Killua snorted. The music had died down to a ballad — still terrible, but thankfully less loud — and most of the conversation in the room resumed. A warm weight settling on his feet made him look below— the dog was now sort of snoozing on Killua, its head on his pristine, white Stan Smiths. To Killua’s surprise, he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. He gazed instead around the room, finding it almost decent when the people in there weren’t trying to eat each other’s faces off. “Wonder why I haven’t heard of them.”

  
“Maybe because you’re secretly an old person trapped in a college student’s body and you hate talking to people when unnecessary?” Leorio chugged back the rest of his drink.

 

  
“I talk to _you_ ,” Killua protested. “And the cat that’s sometimes on the windowsill.”

 

  
“Somehow, I’m not flattered,” Leorio deadpanned.

 

  
“Don’t be— I only talk to you when the cat’s not around.” Killua said flatly. Leorio flipped him off, and they both snorted.

 

  
“So, where’s this person?” Killua asked. “I’d like to meet him. Maybe tell him how much his party sucks.”

 

  
“Somewhere,” Leorio waved a hand carelessly, spilling some of his beer in the process. “Oi, watch out.” Killua nodded to the dog at his feet.

 

  
“Wait,” Leorio straightened up suddenly, “Is that— Is— that’s Kurapika, isn’t it?” He pointed into the mass of people.

 

  
Killua had to squint to see through flailing limbs and strobe lights in the dark, but he followed Leorio’s finger to see their acquaintance. Tall, lithe, with golden hair overgrown down to his chin— Kurapika looked every bit the part of a well-liked and popular student council president. “Yeah,” Killua confirmed. “Didn’t think the council president attended these sort of things.”

 

  
“Me neither,” Leorio threw away his cup, crushing it with his foot as it hit the floor. “That’s why I’m gonna ask him about it.”

 

 

“You’re already drunk,” Killua noted.

 

 

“Are you gonna stop me?” Leorio sluggishly put up two fists, moving into a drunken fighting stance.

 

  
Killua bit his lip to keep from laughing. “No— go ahead.” Trying to keep a straight face, Killua flourished a hand that led out of the hall and bowed.

 

  
“My good sir.” Leorio bowed as well in all seriousness, then staggered off into the night with pulsating lights and moving bodies. Killua let out a snort as he watched his friend drunkenly weave his way through the crowd.

 

  
“Enjoying the party?” A soft voice said from behind. Killua had to make an effort not to jostle the dog as he looked at the speaker: a small, dark figure in the hallway. He squinted, and the figure emerged from the shadows. The corner of Killua’s eyes crinkled in a grin.

 

  
“Hey, Melody.”

 

  
“Good evening, Killua.” Melody smiled gently; everything about her seemed so calming and tranquil, as if time itself had slowed down for her and she wrapped it around herself like a garment. It surprised Killua to see the student aid for Music class in a place like this.

 

  
“Here for the party too?” Killua asked. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like your type,” he clarified.

 

  
“It’s not,” Melody agreed. “But I’m here to see an old friend.”

 

  
“Isn’t everyone.” Killua thought of Leorio. “Who is it?”

 

  
But before Melody could answer, something large and _heavy_ (by the sound of it) seemingly hurled itself in front of them— not unusual for a party. Probably some jocks messing around, throwing stuff. But then a groan came from the ground, and Killua realized the projectile was actually a _person_.

  
Melody sighed and leaned over the person on the floor, holding out a hand. “Really, Gon, do you know how unsafe that was?” Even in reprimanding, her voice was hardly raised. The dog raised its head, sniffed the air once, then promptly went back to drooling on Killua’s shoes.

  
The person accepted Melody’s hand and got up with an enthusiasm surprising for someone who’d just been hurled on hard, wooden flooring. “Sorry,” he winced, rubbing his tailbone. “The guys were doing some kind of victory throw down, and I got caught up in it.”

  
Melody smiled— a mixture of exasperation and fondness. Killua could only blink and stare as the person drew closer.

 

  
The first thing Killua noticed was how _tall_ this person was. Being on the tall side himself, there weren’t many people who Killua could have a literal eye-to-eye conversation with, but this guy was one of them.

 

  
Dressed simply in a black shirt and jeans, with a green jacket slung across one shoulder, it seemed like the guy was trying to play it down. But in this crowd of semi-formal attired adolescents, he only stood out more. Killua tugged at the collar of his own button-up rolled all the way to his elbows and looked down at his jeans, both of which had looked decent on him in the mirror, but the person in front of him could probably make a potato sack look glorious. And how Melody knew this guy was still a mystery to Killua.

 

  
Lithe yet slender, a boyishness in his frame. Tan skin cast in almost every color by the flashing lights. Black hair messily, stylishly stuck upwards in tufts and spikes. And those _eyes_ — Killua didn’t think there existed such a shade: not brown, not gold either, but somewhere in between. Somewhat honey-colored. Sort of tawny? Killua gave up trying to determine the color. Killua blinked again— a hand was now outstretched in his direction.

 

  
“Gon Freecss.” The tan boy smiled, showing a set of perfectly white, even teeth.

 

 

“Killua Zoldyck.” Killua tried not to sound too dazed.

 

 

“I like your pin.” Gon’s eyes flashed warmly.

 

  
Killua was in the process of reaching out his own hand when he stopped. “Ah.” He looked down at where Alluka’s pin rested, just above his shirt pocket. He brushed it with his fingertips habitually— a small, blue thing in the shape of a lightning bolt. The detail was impressive, Killua had to admit. He’d forgotten to shake Gon’s hand, still surprised by the fact that Gon was the first one all night to notice his sister’s pin.

  
Gon lowered his hand, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery, seemingly unfazed by Killua not wanting to greet him properly. He turned back to Melody, striking up a conversation that had more unfamiliar names than Killua cared to listen to. As the two spoke eagerly, like they weren’t in some shaded hallway in the middle of a party, Killua felt more and more out of place. He thought of just leaving already— not the party, just their lonely space. He also had to look for Leorio, probably doing god-knows-what to the student council president. No more reasons to stay. He glanced at Gon and Melody.

 

  
_No more reasons,_ Killua firmly told himself.

 

  
After a few minutes between deciding whether or not to say goodbye to Melody, Killua had already begun quietly stepping out of the hallway when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

 

“I’m leaving. I would appreciate it if you kept Gon company.” Melody smiled at him as she tugged on her scarf around her neck tighter. Killua groaned inwardly but managed a small nod. He could just ditch the guy when she left. Or maybe even vice versa.

 

  
“Alright, you two— behave. Good night.” Melody waved and started to make her way out. Gon raised a hand in farewell and smiled.

 

  
Killua raised a hand as well, but lowered it, frowning slightly. “Wait, what about the friend you were looking for?”

 

  
“Found him.” Melody winked, and stepped out of the hall, quickly swallowed up by the music.

 

  
For a few moments, all Killua could do was stare at his feet and wonder how many minutes of silence was appropriate before one could leave an acquaintance. Or an acquaintance’s acquaintances? Or—

 

  
“I really do like your pin.”

 

  
Killua looked up. Gon was staring at him with such a bright earnestness it hurt to even watch. Hadn’t college done him in yet? It was as if the guy refused to let the prospect of growing up debt-ridden and wallowing in poverty — unless he found a stable job — get to him.

 

  
“My sister made me wear it.” Killua touched the pin again almost absently. “Said it looked like my eyes or something stupid like that.”

 

  
“Well, she’s not wrong.” Gon grinned and leaned against the opposite wall, mirroring Killua’s pose. “Though I think your eyes look better.”

 

  
“Right.” Killua swallowed hard, feeling his stomach somersault as visible heat flooded his face. “Right.” He repeated quietly like an idiot. Although what he probably meant to say was ‘ _fuck off, attractive stranger, and stop flirting_.’ Was what Gon doing even considered flirting? Was Gon even aware that what he said bordered on flirting? Killua scrutinized the tan boy’s face in the dark, half-hidden by the shadows.

 

Gon’s smile wasn’t a flirtatious one— only full of a sincerity that it looked almost sweet. What was perplexing was that it tugged on Killua’s heartstrings even more. No doubt about it; the guy was just nice. He was probably one of those types that said ‘sorry’ to plants if he stepped on them.

  
_Nice people, albeit good-looking ones, made for decent company._ That’s what Killua told himself as he decided to stay a little longer. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the hallway, he looked around and saw various objects in the spaces which he’d thought previously empty. A small table with ornaments. A potted plant.

  
“You know who’s throwing the party?” Killua asked Gon, indicating to the picture frames hung on the walls. He could barely see the images, though he could make out a woman and a boy in almost each one. “If you do, tell them their party sucks.”

 

  
Instead of answering, Gon studied him curiously, a faint smile gracing his features. “Too dark to see the pictures?” Gon asked.

 

  
_Weird question,_ Killua thought. “Yeah.” _Obviously_.

 

  
Gon smiled even wider. “I know the guy.”

 

  
Killua snorted. “Lemme guess, childhood friend?”

 

  
“Something like that,” Gon nodded seriously. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “What made you think his party sucks, anyway?”

 

  
“I dunno— everything?” Killua threw up an arm in exasperation. “Who the hell plays Britney Spears at a semi-formal party? The food’s terrible. Beer tastes like piss. And all these jackasses wearing fancy ties and dresses, thinking it makes them look like less of idiots.”

 

  
“You don’t look like one, though.” Gon cut in thoughtfully. “I— What?” Killua snapped, forgetting that he was mad at the guy who threw the stupid party, mad at the stupid party, and mad at himself for even thinking of going here.

 

  
“You don’t look like an idiot,” Gon repeated, smiling. “You actually look really, really good. No one here looks like you.”

 

“I— Don’t you get embarrassed by what comes out of that mouth of yours?” Killua grumbled, turning away from Gon’s gaze. _Honestly_ , he thought, _one more compliment, and I might make out with you. If you let me._

 

“Not if it’s true,” Gon winked, and Killua swore he felt his stomach drop a few hundred feet. Flirting intentionally or not, Killua’d had enough of this. He instinctively backed up even more against the wall, and felt something angular digging into his back. Probably one of the many picture frames scattered.

 

  
The dog, which he’d almost forgotten about, raised its head at his movement. “Hey— go back to sleep.” Killua looked down and adjusted his feet. He allowed a small smile to cross his face as the dog complied, flopping back down.

 

“He likes you,” Gon noted with evident surprise. “Doesn’t seem like he wants to leave you. Think I feel the same.” Gon looked back up at Killua, expression dead serious yet his eyes were bridling with unspilled laughter.

 

“Why’re you here?” Killua exasperatedly sighed, fingers carding into his hair and shoving his white fringe up and away from his now too-hot face.

  
“Oh— my teammates. We recently won in a competition.” Gon shrugged simply, as if they hadn’t just won the annual interschool basketball championship. With his lean, athletic frame, and the way he talked about the basketball team so familiarly— Killua put two and two together. _Of course_ he’d be part of the varsity.

 

“Congratulations or whatever, but no— I meant why are you _still_ here?” Killua corrected himself.

 

“My dog’s sleeping on you.” Gon smiled fondly at the canine, still slobbering at Killua’s feet. _So that’s who you belong to_ , Killua thought. _Huh_.

 

  
“Why would you bring your dog to a party?”

 

 

“I didn’t. He lives here.”

 

 

“Oh.” Killua nodded in understanding. It took a few seconds of Gon looking at him in amusement before it hit Killua.

 

  
“Wait.” Killua began dangerously. “You— _Fuck_ —“

 

 

“Yes?” Gon’s face was swallowed up in a shit-eating grin, arms crossed across his chest. The very picture of smugness.

 

 

“You’re shitting me. You’re _shitting_ me, right?” Killua couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe the level of embarrassment it would amount to had Gon’s statement been actually true.

 

“Look behind you.” Gon nodded to the picture frame that had been digging into Killua’s back for a while now. With a sense of impending despair, Killua did so, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness enough to study the image. It was another one of the woman and the boy, both faceless earlier in the half-shadows, but upon closer inspection revealed the inhabitants of this house.

  
The picture was taken in a scenic place which Killua couldn’t identify— a cliff left to be smothered in grass and mossy stones, with the sea swallowing up the horizon behind them. The woman, maybe in her early thirties, with flaming red hair pinned neatly behind her ear, had a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy had tan skin, a perpetual grin, and black hair that seemed to defy gravity as it was blown upwards by the cliff side winds. The boy in the picture had all that, but so did the one in front of Killua. He turned slowly back to the Gon not in the picture frame.

 

“Childhood friend my _ass_ —“ Killua bit his lip before any more obscenities could spill. He wondered if it was possible to die from mortification. He felt heat creep up his neck to his cheeks so fast it hurt.

  
“There you are!” A voice burped out. Killua had never been so relieved to hear his roommate’s disgusting drunken slurring. But for fuck’s sake, how hard was it for Leorio to tell him that this unrealistic, good-looking smart-ass was the friend he’d come to see?

 

Leorio came to Gon’s side, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Was looking for you.” He pointed to Killua in surprise, as if seeing him for the first time that evening.

 

  
“You! Hey, meet—“ Leorio frowned, then pointed to Gon, “— You. You two, meet. Gon Freecss, captain of Padokea University’s basketball team. Can you believe that, Killua?” 

 

 

“Nope.” Killua said flatly. Leorio ignored this and pointed at Killua instead.

 

 

“That’s a Zoldyck. Did you know he hates your party?”

 

 

_Fucking Leorio._

 

 

Gon patted Leorio’s back and grinned at Killua. “I might’ve heard something like that.”

 

 

“I’m going to kill you the both of you.” Killua smiled back venomously.

 

 

“That might save me from throwing more horrible parties. Good idea, Killua.” Gon nodded gravely as if considering the prospect. “Though I thought I was already in heaven when I first saw you.”

  
Killua felt like he could die from blushing too hard. It was as if all the blood in his body had concentrated into a single, boiling point in his face. Killua couldn’t believe the nerve of this stupid, attractive _idiot_. That was _definitely_ a pickup line— to hell with it if Gon didn’t realize so. A cheesy, cringe-worthy pickup line that had Killua shuddering with secondhand embarrassment. But which was worse to behold: the pickup line or the person who fell for it?

 

  
Killua knew the answer.

 

  
He didn’t know whether it was his own impulses or the warm look that Gon was giving him that made Killua throw away what was left of his determination to uphold his dignity.

 

 

“Wait. Just—“ Killua pointed at Gon accusingly. “Are you _trying_ to flirt with me?”

 

 

“Have been for the past twenty minutes, but thanks for noticing.” Laughter threatened to overtake Gon’s words, but he managed to say them somehow.

 

 

“Even though I told you your party sucked harder than an amateur pornstar?” Killua asked in disbelief.

 

 

“Well, that’s original,” a surprised, genuine laugh was drawn out from Gon, and Killua felt the rumble of his baritone in his chest. “But yeah, even then,” Gon grinned. He’d never looked more attractive to Killua, even with his hair slightly unkempt and a drunk person half-draped across his body.

 

  
Leorio watched all this with a disgusted and fascinated air, and when the two had stopped the conversation and just stood there, staring at each other, Leorio knew he’d had enough.

 

  
“Nope. No. Get a room.” Leorio unslung his arm around Gon’s shoulder and teetered unsteadily, bracing an arm on the wall. The two sober adolescents exchanged amused looks. “C’mon, Kon— let’s leave it to the birds and the bees.” He made a whistling sound, and the dog jumped and bounded up immediately, following suit as Leorio stumbled out of the hallway.

 

  
“Traitor. You knew all along,” Killua muttered as he watched the canine leap off of his feet. “Oi grandpa,” Killua yelled after Leorio. “Don’t go home, okay? I’m driving your drunk ass back to the dorm.”

 

 

“You’re getting soft, kid.” Leorio burped loudly enough for them to hear.

 

 

“Looks like it.” Killua snorted, a faint smile already on his lips.

 

 

Leorio saluted them once more, and disappeared again into the crowd. And again he was left in the dark, but this time, Killua wasn’t alone.

 

  
“So.” Gon began, and stepped forward, chest lining up to meet Killua’s. “How’s the party? Great?” His strangely colored eyes glinted with sarcasm.

 

“You’re not that nice after all, are you?” Killua concluded, drawing himself up to his full height. But he felt himself draw closer to the tan boy.

 

“Never said I was.” Gon breathed lowly. Rough, calloused fingers, so light that Killua barely felt them, trailed a path down the pale, bared skin of Killua’s arm. “I do have a nice idea, though.”

 

“Mmm.” Killua tried not to breath too raggedly, determined not to be undone by this boy, with his addictive touches and dark, sugar-spun words. “Do tell.”

 

“It involves finding someplace _quiet_ ,” Gon murmured, and Killua felt goosebumps where Gon’s breath had brushed against his neck. “And, of course, getting away from this party. I hear it’s terrible.” Gon pulled away to bite his lip and grin at Killua, goading him on.

 

“Now what could have given you that idea?” Killua finally grinned back, drunk on adrenaline and Gon’s smile. Gon dropped his fingers to entwine them with Killua’s— they tried not to grin and look so much at their clasped hands.

 

“Maybe it’s the Britney; maybe something else.” Gon shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.” And before he realized it, Killua’s hand was being tugged and his feet were already moving to the end of the hallway and towards the living room, where the music beat loudest.

 

Just before they stepped out of the hallway, Gon looked back at Killua, eyebrow raised, unsure smile in place. It was the first sign of hesitance Killua had seen on his face all night, and it made Killua dizzy to think that _he_ had caused it.

 

  
What he had gotten himself into, Killua didn’t know. But he wanted to. _God_ , did he want to.

 

 

This time, it was Killua who tugged on their joined hands and led them out the shadowed hallway, only to be swallowed up by the light.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re nearing the end, and I am getting emotional. Seriously. Even though I type really blandly. I don’t wanna stop writing, but some things just end. 
> 
> *cough* 2011 HxH anime *cough* 
> 
>  
> 
> You know the drill— suggestions and constructive criticism are always, always appreciated. 
> 
> Love lots, x


	17. evening blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drink the evening blue  
> unfolding in front of you  
> oh i loved you then  
> and i think you knew
> 
>  
> 
> \- ollie mn
> 
>  
> 
> Gon tries to propose. It goes exactly as you'd think it would, what with Killua hating surprises and all. 
> 
> Setting: aged-up (22-ish), any universe actually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and summary of the chapter are lyrics from [this terribly wonderful song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQvfsrusuKk)
> 
> catch me being sentimental in the notes below!
> 
> for now, enjoy this last oneshot for this fic :-)

 

 

Killua wakes up with moonlight in his eyes.

 

The process of waking up itself is a long and arduous one, and is done in measures.

 

 

First, he notes the palpable coolness of the light washing over his face. Outside the window just above his bed, the moon is an opaque block of marble high in the sky. It is dawn, Killua realizes, as he sees the first rosy hints of sunrise, deep in the horizon.

 

 

The birds twitter hesitantly. In a few more hours, the morning will dissolve into a slow-moving cacophony of songs.

 

 

Killua hears the sheets rustle as he stretches in bed and almost groans at the indulgent feeling of the soft fabric slipping against his bared skin, soothing sore places.

 

 

He’s acutely aware of someone breathing beside him.

 

 

Killua blinks his eyes open wearily to find an arm slung across his torso.

 

 

He’s not surprised to see Gon beside him, half-naked and a striking contrast against his bed’s pristinely white sheets. He is surprised, though, that Gon is _still_ there; usually the guy would be up before the morning had even started, as if engaging the sun in some god-forsaken contest of whoever got to wake Killua up first.

 

 

Gon lies on his side, one arm anchoring Killua to the bed. Eyes quickly adjusting to the faint darkness, Killua lets his gaze trail upwards along the ridges of Gon’s biceps, where the tan of his arms fade into the slightly lighter tone of his muscular chest, the only place where the sun hasn’t left its mark. Killua feels strangely possessive, then realizes how stupid it‘d be to be jealous of a fiery ball of gas.

 

 

After all, the sun didn’t get to spend last night with Gon— Killua did.

 

 

A flush settles in Killua’s cheeks as he remembers it— how it felt like to be covered by Gon’s sculpted body, and the slide of their sweat against overheated skin. They’ve done it more times than Killua would care to count, but the way Gon would touch him — fervently, almost in worship — still overwhelms him, even more so than the pleasure. Their clothes, collateral damage, are still scattered around the floor; evidence of their passionate activities just a few hours ago. Killua shakes his head as if to will the embarrassment away, and he feels the grip on his waist grow tighter, pulling him all the way to the side.

 

 

“Mmm.” Gon grunts, burying his face into the crook of Killua’s shoulder as if trying to chase sleep. The coarse spikes of Gon’s tousled hair tickle the ex-assassin’s neck.

 

 

Killua sneezes lightly. Gon blinks at him adoringly.

 

 

“Love you,” is Gon- _fucking_ -Freecss’ first sentence in the early morning haze. As if Killua isn’t flustered enough. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to such sweet, annoyingly endearing bluntness.

 

 

“Hm. Morning.” Killua wrinkles his nose.

 

 

“Is it?” Gon sniffs. “It’s still dark.”

 

 

Killua cranes his head towards the softly glowing digital alarm clock. “It’s 5:00 am, idiot. ‘Course it’s still dark. Doesn’t mean it’s not morning.”

 

 

“Mmm. I see you, though.” Gon says sleepily, his voice almost tangible in the silence of dawn. For some god forsaken reason, the simple observation tugs at Killua’s heart.

 

 

“I see you, too,” Killua says softly.

 

 

Gon stretches up to press his lips against the corner of his mouth. Killua frees his right hand from the sheets to cup Gon’s cheek, sighing as their lips finally angle perfectly, deepening the kiss, fingers grazing a stubble-lined jaw. As Gon subtly pins him against the headboard, Killua realizes they’re only separated by the flimsy fabric of their boxers, and the thought sends his head spinning.

 

 

Killua is so, so _alive_ — what with Gon’s hands roaming his body with an alertness suspicious for someone who has just woken up. Wonders how he’s lived this long without being touched as he is right now— with such tenderness, without any intent of harm, so different from the shoves and blunt blows he associates with his childhood.

 

 

As if sensing him think too much, Gon kisses him even more soundly.

 

 

Early as it is, it seems as though a repetition of last night’s events is likely— that is, until Killua notices _it_.

 

 

 _Oh_.

 

 

A surge of emotions run through his chest, leaving his mind blank with surprise.

 

 

Turns out Gon _had_ woken up early, after all.

 

 

“Gon— _ah_.” Killua bites back a moan and tries again for a more urgent sentence. “Gon.”

 

 

“Mm.” Gon exhales heavily on an exposed piece of pale neck, already turning a garish cherry-red.

 

 

“ _Gon_.” Killua’s voice comes out dangerously quiet this time, and Gon stills.His eyes ask a question as they meet Killua’s narrowed stare, and Killua answers it by holding up his left hand.

 

 

And there it is.

 

 

They hold their breaths as the light of dawn is reflected on the plain, silver band encircling Killua’s ring finger.

 

 

A ring that wasn’t there before. Or, more accurately, wasn’t there a few hours ago.

 

* * *

 

 

 _I_ _didn’t_ _think_ _you’d_ _mind_. 

 

 

“Gon.” Killua is a broken record.

 

 

“Yeah?” Gon’s voice is too loud and makes the silence cringe.

 

 

“This is Aunt Mito’s ring.”

 

 

“So?”

 

 

“It’s her _engagement_ ring.” Gon hears Killua swallow hard.

 

 

“Was.” Gon corrected him quietly. “Gave it to me.”

 

 

“Which _you_ put on _me_. While I was asleep.”

 

 

“True.” Gon admits.

 

 

The disbelieving stare Killua gives him is question enough.

 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Gon sighs as he moves away and sits on his haunches. In the dawn, Killua is all angles and shadows, leaning back against the pillows and glaring in such a way that Gon wants to kiss him senseless right then and there. In the dark, Killua looks _right_ — as muted and lovely as falling snow, the faintest flush settling in his cheeks. Beautiful. But not the conspicuous kind. The sight puts a few forgotten words of poetry on Gon’s tongue.

 

 

 _under_ _your_ _skin_ , _the_ _moon_ _is_ _alive_.

 

 

Or something like that.

 

 

“Hey. Earth to dumbass.” Killua snaps his fingers a few inches away from Gon’s nose. “Something you wanna tell me?”

 

 

“Kinda obvious at this point,” Gon snorts.

 

 

“Yeah, no shit.” Killua sighs. “This is so _you_.“

 

 

Gon blinks and fidgets with the sheets. “I thought you’d be, I don’t know, pleased?”

 

 

“Pleased?” Killua echoes in disbelief.

 

 

 _Ouch_.

 

 

Gon shrugs, stung at Killua’s incredulous tone, but he doesn’t dare show it. Was it presumptuous of him to do that? He’s not sure. But Killua hasn’t even mentioned wanting to accept the ring (or Gon, for that matter). A sinking feeling grows in his chest as the realization that Killua might not want _that_ with him settles heavily, belatedly. A tense silence befalls them once more. When Killua moves again, Gon thinks it’s to close the growing distance between them, but he only carefully removes the ring from his slender index finger.

 

 

 _Oh_.

 

 

Gon doesn’t look up or say a word as Killua clenches and unclenches his hand, the ring on his palm glinting weakly. Doesn’t trust his eyes not to blur. Or his voice not to crack.

 

 

“Gon, I—“

 

 

“I’m sorry.” Gon’s words are papercuts on skin. 

 

 

“Wh—“ Killua starts.

 

 

“Because I didn’t think, okay?” Gon’s confession stills them both. “I— Well— I thought you’d want it. Me. Us. Whatever. I’m sorry for thinking that you wanted us, too.”

 

 

“Gon, listen—“

 

 

“Tell me it’s because you’re not ready.” Gon cuts Killua off once more, exhaling the sharp words. The patterns on the sheet blur dangerously as a hot wetness behind Gon’s eyelids starts to spill. “Tell me,” Gon inhales shakily, “it’s because you don’t want to settle down yet, that you want to travel more and see more, and not because you’re not sure of us. You’ll kill me.” Gon hurriedly breathes out the last few words in a plea.

 

 

“Gon, you—“

 

 

“Killua, I— Wanting to be with you— I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. So it kinda sucks to—“

 

 

 _Crack!_

 

 

The shock of Killua’s fist against his jaw stuns him into silence.

 

 

It wasn’t even a real punch, Gon knows, because he’d already be across the room if it was. Killua’s breathing is ragged, chest heaving with the effort of it. Bewildered, Gon finally looks up, one hand rubbing his jawline absently.

 

 

Killua’s electric-blue eyes are shining and strangely wet.

 

 

“Shut up,” Killua exhales.

 

 

Gon is sure nothing could surprise him more when Killua, muttering a string of obscenities under his breath, finally—

 

 

_finally_

 

 

— moves to smash their mouths together.

 

 

The kiss feels angry and defiant and so damn _good_ as Killua straddles Gon’s lap, trapping him against the headboard. His slender fingers frame Gon’s face in a strong hold. Gon’s hands grip the ex-assassin’s hips and trace words on the skin there.

 

 

“ _Let_ — _me_ — _finish_.” Each of Killua’s words is punctuated with a press of his lips against every part of Gon’s face that he can reach. “ _Idiot_ ,” Killua breathes against his mouth. Gon half-laughs and half-sobs in delight, tears leaving tracks down his brown cheeks. Killua kisses those, too. This is terribly wonderful and all, but Gon still doesn’t understand.

 

 

“I’m sor—“

 

 

“Gon Freecss, if I hear you apologize one more fucking time, I will hit you so hard your ancestors would feel it. _Shut_ _up_.”

 

 

Gon, for once, actually does.

 

 

“You have no right,” Killua’s voice aches and splinters into a thousand fractals of hurt, “absolutely _no_ _right_ to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

 

 

Killua bites his lip, looking away. “Not when you were all I ever needed all these years.”

 

 

“Was— Killua, was that a yes?” Gon holds his breath, fingers pausing from their perusal of Killua’s hipbones.

 

 

“Why don’t you ask me and find out?” Killua holds out his palm with the ring on it.

 

 

Gon takes the silver band, studies it for a few seconds, then looks up at Killua, pale thighs still sprawled on either side of his lap. Drinking in the sight of Killua bathed in fading evening blue, Gon suddenly remembers the rest of the poem.

 

 

_it is not so much light that falls_

_over the world_

_extended by your body_

_its suffocating snow,_

_as brightness, pouring itself out of you,_

_as if you were burning inside_

 

 

Killua tilts his head to one side.

 

 

_under your skin, the moon is alive._

 

 

Gon wipes at the wetness in his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

 

“Killua, will you ma—“

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

Killua kisses him. Swallows the heartache and doubt and the quiet moans that escape Gon’s lips. Over and over and over, till their mouths are sore and their heads are spinning but it’s _alright_. It’s alright. How can anything be wrong?

 

 

“God, _yes_.” Killua groans as his fingers tug devotedly on the short hairs at the back of Gon’s head. “Forever, yes.”

 

 

“ _Mine_ ,” Gon growls against the base of Killua’s throat.

 

 

“ _Yours_ ,” Killua promises, eyes closing in pleasure.

 

 

“Let me put it on you,” Gon laughs breathlessly as Killua doesn’t show signs of ceasing to kiss the side of his neck. He runs trailing fingers down Killua’s spine, and the back arches from pleasure. They shiver, and it’s not from the cold.

 

 

Killua finally puts a hand on Gon’s bare chest and pushes himself away, a smile threatening to overtake his flushed features. Gon catches the hand and slips on the ring again where it had rested only a few minutes ago. Killua inhales shakily as Gon takes his time kissing each finger and scarred knuckle, lips soft and warm and chapped.

 

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Killua.Why’d you even take it off in the first place?” Gon murmurs, winding his arms around Killua’s waist once more.

 

 

Killua looks down at him in exasperation. “I wanted a real proposal, dumbass. If you’d let me finish, you would’ve known.”

 

 

Gon stares at him blankly before breaking out in fits of laughter, burying his face in Killua’s chest. Killua snorts and runs his hands up and down Gon’s shoulders.

 

 

“Five years. We’ve been together for _five fucking years_ , and you’ve never learned to listen, have you?” Killua shakes his head in disbelief.

 

 

“Well,” Gon looks up once more, taking Killua’s chin in one hand, “I have a lifetime with you to practice.”

 

 

Killua kisses him again in agreement. And again. And again.

 

 

The dawn swallows them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all u who stuck around and read this far, it really means a lot to me. I've grown too attached to this particular piece aaaaa but I'm glad I could finish it. Fic by fic, I feel like my writing is improving, and I'm really happy that it's made some of you as happy as well by reading it. 
> 
> (poem mentioned in the story is Ode To A Naked Beauty, by Pablo Neruda)
> 
> love lots, and see u around


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